Storybook Love
by bookworm0702
Summary: When Steve lost the love of his life, he decided that he would never love again, and when he is chosen to marry the second son of the king, he truly resigns himself to a loveless marriage. When he is kidnapped after the engagement announcement, he could never even begin to guess that this would be the very thing that would help him love again.
1. Come My Love, I'll Tell You a Tale

**Author's Note: this is based off my favorite movie, The Princess Bride.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Princess Bride, or anything related to Marvel.**

* * *

Steve was raised on a small farm in the town of America in the country of Asgard. His favorite pastimes were riding his horse, and tormenting the farm-boy that worked there. His name was James Buchannan Barnes, Bucky for short, but he never called him that.

The blonde rode up to his house. He had inherited the farm after his mother's death, and with the farm, came the farm-boy. Nothing gave Steve as much pleasure as ordering Bucky around.

The boy, man really, was chopping wood outside of the barn when Steve rode up and dismounted Freedom, his horse, "Farm-boy, polish my horse's saddle. I want to see my face shining in it by morning," Steve knew he was mean and bossy, but every time he became close to somebody, they would leave. He didn't want to risk it with anyone. Even someone he had known since childhood. Bucky never seemed to mind. He took whatever Steve was willing to give him, even if it was only ever animosity.

"As you wish," he said, softly. 'As you wish' was all he ever said to him.

"Farm-boy, feed the chickens."

"As you wish."

"Farm-boy, milk the cows."

"As you wish."

Steve hated it. He wished that Bucky would just yell at him, and get it over with, but no. Steve sighed to himself and picked up two buckets. He was going to make soup, and he needed water. He walked over to where Bucky was working hard chopping wood, "Farm-boy, fill these with water," Bucky didn't say anything. He just put down his axe, and looked at the smaller boy. Steve shocked himself when he said, "Please?"

Bucky's eyes lit up, and his lips twitched into a barely-there smile. Just from a please?

"As you wish."

Steve walked away, deep in thought. Why did Bucky stay with the farm? Steve didn't have anything to offer. Steve was mean, and never knew how to back away from a fight, he even searched for them. Bucky was kind and charming. Everyone loved Bucky, so it wasn't like he didn't have other options…so why did he stay.

Steve looked back at the dark-haired man, only to see him staring after him, only jumping to take the buckets when he saw Steve looking back at him.

It hit him like a ton of bricks…when he said, 'As you wish,' he meant… I love you.

Steve hurried into the house, shocked at what he had realized. He avoided him for the next week after that. Riding for hours at a time, taking trips into the village. It wasn't that the realization disgusted him. It was just…he didn't know how he felt about it.

Steve was preparing dinner when Bucky came in with firewood. He was about to leave without saying anything, but Steve didn't want him to, "Farm-boy!" he yelled stopping him. Bucky looked at him, waiting for his order. Steve looked around the room, desperate to find anything to justify him stopping him. He looked up. Directly above his head was a pitcher. It was a little too high for him to reach, but he always managed, "Fetch me that pitcher," he ordered softly, slightly embarrassed.

Bucky looked him in the eyes, and slowly started forward, not breaking eye contact. He came up to Steve, trapping the small body between his own larger one, and the table. Still maintaining eye contact, he reached up with one hand, and brought down the pitcher. He offered it, almost reverently, to the smaller boy, and whispered, "As you wish," before going back outside.

Steve sank against the table. He finally realized. Why he tried so hard to make Bucky go, when he wanted the opposite. Why he had avoided Bucky when he realized the other boy was in love with him. Why he looked for reasons to talk to him. He loved Bucky. He truly, loved him.

The short man didn't waste a moment to run out of the house after him, "Bucky!" he shouted, realizing this was the first time he had ever used Bucky's name, aloud. Bucky stopped short, and turned around, unable to believe his ears. He threw his arms out just in time to catch Steve.

"I love you," Steve said, needing to say it quickly, or he wouldn't say it at all. Bucky's face split into the biggest smile he had ever seen on the other man. Bucky pulled him close to his chest and spun him around in a circle.

"I love you, too," this was all he had ever wanted. He gently put Steve back onto the ground, and tilted his head back. He looked into Steve's eyes, asking permission. The blonde man's blue eyes closed, and he wrapped his arms around Bucky's neck, pulling him down to meet him halfway.

Bucky sighed into the kiss, happy. He had finally told Steve that he loved him, and Steve loved him back.

* * *

Bucky had no money for marriage, so he packed his few belongings and left the farm to seek his fortune across the sea. Steve had tried to convince him that the farm was all they needed, but Bucky wanted to give Steve the life he deserved.

The morning of Bucky's departure came far too soon. Steve wrapped his tiny arms around Bucky's waist, and refused to let go.

"I'm scared that I'll never see you again."

Bucky sighed, sad he was causing his love such pain, "Of course you will."

"But what if something happens to you?"

The dark-haired man pulled back and stared into the eyes of the man he loved, "Here this now…I will always come for you. I'm with you 'til the end of the line."

Steve wanted to believe him, "But how can you be sure?"

Bucky smiled, "This is true love. Do you think this happens every day?" he gave Steve one final kiss, and left the farm, and his love, behind.

* * *

Bucky never reached his destination. His ship was attacked by the Winter Soldier, a fierce pirate, who never left captives alive.

When Steve got the news that Bucky was murdered, he went into his room and shut the door. For days, he neither slept nor ate.

"I will never love again."


	2. Of Two Young Boys, and Their Love Story

_Five years later._

The main square of Asgard City was filled as never before to hear the announcement of the Prince Loki's betrothed. He was the second son of King Odin, and the younger brother of Crown Prince Thor. Ever since the Crown Prince had taken his own wife, a lovely scholar named Jane, the country had been waiting for the younger prince to find his future spouse.

The royal family entered the balcony to the cheers of the kingdom. The king, Queen Frigga, and Prince Thor stood aside to let Prince Loki announce his betrothed, "My people, a month from now, our country will have it's 500th anniversary! On that sundown, I shall marry a man who was once a commoner, like yourselves! But perhaps, you will not find him common, now! Would you like to meet him?" the crowd cheered in response. Loki motioned to where a red carpet was laid out in front of the castle, "My people! The Prince…Steven!"

The crowd looked over to the carpet as the beautiful man walked towards them. They were struck silent.

The five years had been kind to Steve's looks. He had grown, just a bit, and filled out a little in the torso and the arms. His blonde hair looked like spun gold, and his skin was perfect. He wasn't scrawny anymore. He was simply small and delicate, but his blue eyes held a hidden strength gained only by experiencing great loss.

He was striking.

The crowd could only look on in wonder at the sight of this beauty, and they knelt in front of their new prince.

Steve just looked around the courtyard, indifferent to the ceremony. His emptiness consumed him. And though, the law of the land gave Loki the right to choose his betrothed, he did not love him.

Despite Loki's reassurance that he would grow to love him, the only joy he found was in his daily ride. Freedom had died a few years after Bucky, and Liberty had been his engagement present.

The announcement had been a few hours ago, and he couldn't get out of there fast enough. He needed to ride, to forget about his engagement. He was nearly five miles outside of the city gates, and was riding past the sea when he was stopped.

"Excuse me," said the man who stopped him. He was short, and balding with glasses. He spoke in a slight accent. He was standing next to a beautiful, older woman who had lines on her face, but her red hair was still incredibly vibrant. Next to her…what was that? It was a large man who looked almost…green? The small man continued, "We are but, poor, lost circus performers. Is there a village nearby?"

That explained their odd appearance, Steve thought, before replying, "There is nothing nearby…not for miles."

The man smirked, as the large one walked up to him, "Then there will be no one to hear you scream," Steve was about to do just that when the large hand clamped down on his neck, and everything went black.

Natasha was preparing the boat while Bruce carried their captive onto the ship. Zola was standing over by the horse, "What is that you're ripping?" she asked.

"It's fabric from the uniform, from an army officer of Jotunheim," he answered.

"Who's Jotunheim?" Bruce asked, gently setting the prince down.

"The country across the sea, the sworn enemy of Asgard!" Zola responded, impatiently. He shook his head at their ignorance, "Go!" he said, with a slap on the horse's rump. The animal went running back in the direction of the capital, "Once the horse reaches the castle, the fabric will make the prince suspect that the Jotun have abducted his love. When he finds his body dead on the Jotunheim frontier, his suspicions will be totally confirmed.

"You never said anything about killing anyone," Bruce objected.

"I've hired you to help me start a war," Zola said, baffled by the large man's naivety, "It's a prestigious line of work, with a long and glorious tradition."

The large man shook his head, "I just don't think it's right, killing an innocent boy."

Zola sneered, "Am I going mad? Or did the word _think_ escape your lips?! You were not hired for your brains, you hulking land mass!"

Natasha glared before jumping in the boat, it was finally ready to go, "I agree with Bruce."

"Oh, the lush has spoken!" he stormed over to her, "What happens to him is not truly your concern! I will kill him! And remember this, never forget this! When I found you, you were so slobbering drunk, you couldn't buy brandy!" Bruce growled at him, which pulled the short man's attention away from his friend, "And you! Friendless, brainless, helpless, hopeless! Do you want me to send you back to where you were? Unemployed, in Calcutta!" the large man was silent, and Zola gave a self-satisfied huff before walking up to the front of the boat.

Natasha looked over at her large friend. She could see how much Zola's words had upset him. She knew his story, knew he was anything but brainless. He had been a miracle man who had tried to develop a miracle to help with weak limbs. The miracle had exploded in his home, and he had been unable to get out in time. He was horrified at what he had become. He was as large as a giant, and his skin had been stained green. Unfortunately, the miracle had messed up his brain. He spoke slower, and his brilliant mind had been reduced to what was practically survival instincts. Because of that, he could never duplicate the miracle, or figure out a cure.

Natasha had found that rhymes helped. He found it to be the easiest way to communicate, and it helped strengthen his mind when he had to think fast. It also helped to calm him down. She walked over to her upset friend, "Zola…he can _fuss._ "

Bruce closed his eyes and thought, "Fuss, fuss…I think he likes to scream, at us!" he finished, with a happy smile.

Natasha grinned, "He probably means no _harm._ "

"…He's very, very short on…charm!"

His friend chuckled, "You have a great gift for rhyme."

Bruce's cheeks tinted a darker green at the praise, "Yes, yes…some of the time."

"Enough of that," Zola ordered from the front of the boat. The rhyming irritated him.

She smirked, "Hey, Bruce, are there rocks ahead?"

"If there are, we'll all be dead!"

"No more rhymes now, and I mean it!" Zola commanded.

"Anybody want a peanut?"

They laughed when Zola screamed, but stopped.

By the time the moon was up, the boat was halfway across the sea, and Steve was awake.

"We'll reach the cliffs by dawn," Zola announced, before Natasha got his attention. She had been looking behind them for the last ten minutes, and it was starting to get on his nerves, "Why are you doing that?" he asked, irritated.

"I'm making sure nobody's following us," she said, logically.

Zola shook his head, "That would be impossible."

Steve broke in, "Despite what you think, you will be caught…and when you are, the prince will see you all hanged."

Zola smirked, "Of all the necks on this boat, highness…the one you should be worrying about is your own."

He glared, but turned away. Natasha looked over the back of the boat again.

"Stop doing that!" Zola yelled, frustrated, "We can all relax, it's almost over!"

She raised an eyebrow, "Are you sure nobody's following us?"

"I told you, it would be absolutely, totally, and in all other ways, impossible! No one in Jotunheim knows what we've done, and no one in Asgard could've gotten here so fast!" he closed his eyes, and leaned his head back against the railing, before a thought occurred to him, "Out of curiosity, why do you ask?"

She shrugged, "Oh, it's nothing. It's only that I just happened to look behind us, and something is there," she said, calmly.

Zola stood up and rushed to the back of the boat. Sure enough, another boat was about 50 yards behind them. Zola stammered, "It's probably just some local fisherman out for a pleasure cruise at night…threw…eel infested waters…" even he could tell he sounded like an idiot. They heard a splash from behind them. They turned to see Steve, in the water, swimming towards the other boat…and he appeared to be a very strong swimmer. Zola turned to Natasha, "Go in! Go after him!"

"I don't swim," she said, shrugging. Zola looked to Bruce.

"I only dog paddle," he said apologetically.

"Gah!" Zola threw his hands up at their incompetence, before barking out orders, "Veer left! Left! Left!"

Steve didn't slow down as he heard them approach. Not until he heard a very loud, and very frightening, shrieking noise in the water with him.

Zola smirked, "Do you know what that sound is, highness? Those are the shrieking eels," he laughed when he saw the terrified look on his face, "If you don't believe me, just wait! They always grow louder when they're about to feed on human flesh!"

Steve couldn't contain his scream when he felt one of the eels brushed against his body. It was huge! Zola continued.

"If you swim back now, I promise, no harm will come to you…I doubt you'll get such an offer from the eels."

He couldn't swim back even if he wanted to. He was frozen with fear, the eel was circling around him, and with a shriek, it opened its mouth, revealing sharp teeth. Steve knew this was the last thing he would ever see. Before he could scream, a large, green fist, pounded down on the eel's head, slamming its mouth closed, and dazing it long enough for that same hand to pull him over the side of the ship.

"Put him down!" Zola screeched at Bruce, "Just put him down!"

Bruce gently placed him back on the ground as Zola ran over with rope to tie his hands. Natasha looked over the back of the boat. The other boat was still there, and seemed to have gained ground in the fuss.

"I think he's getting closer," she warned.

"He's no concern or ours, drive on!" Zola said, irritated at his employee. He sneered up at the prince, and said, "I suppose you think you're brave, don't you?"

Steve leveled him with a cold glare, "Only compared to some," he hated bullies, and Zola was most definitely a bully.

Zola glared at him threw his glasses, but left him alone.

The next morning, the other boat was dangerously close.

"Look!" Natasha called to her companions, "He's right on top of us…I wonder if he's using the same wind we are using?" she thought aloud.

"Whoever he is, he's too late!" Zola cheered, smirking, "See!" he pointed to where they were approaching. They turned to see a monstrous cliff, "The Cliffs of Insanity!" he turned to his lackey's, "Hurry up! Move the thing!" Natasha shook her head at his terribly knowledge of boats, but she and Bruce quickly went about their business, while Zola barked orders as if he knew what he was doing.

They docked at the base of the cliff. Bruce jumped off, and pulled the boat in as Natasha tied it off. Zola grabbed Steve and dragged him off the boat, "We're safe, only Bruce is strong enough to go up our way. He'll have to travel around for hours until he finds a harbor," Zola said, smugly. But the other boat was still following them. Apparently, he didn't know he wasn't strong enough to go up that way.

Natasha quickly helped Bruce into a harness. The harness was made of a sturdy leather, and had three thick straps attached. The straps would secure the three of them to the giant while he climbed the rope they had secured to the top of the cliff a few weeks prior. Natasha couldn't stop glancing back at the mysterious boat. It was almost there. She helped Steve into the harness as Zola secured his own strap. Once she was attached, Bruce began to climb.

Steve had his arms wrapped around one of Bruce's large ones. It was a very long way to the top of the cliff, and he was honestly terrified. It didn't matter how strong Bruce was if the rope gave out, or the harness malfunctioned.

They were about a quarter of the way up the cliff when the other boat finally reached the base. The mystery man quickly tied off his boat, and didn't hesitate to begin climbing the rope.

Natasha looked down at him in shock, "He's climbing the rope," she said, voice filled with disbelief, "and he's gaining on us…"

"Impossible," Zola said, shocked and infuriated. He turned back to the giant, "Faster!"

"I thought I was going faster!" Bruce said, sounding a little winded. They were a little more than halfway up at this point.

Zola narrowed his eyes, "You were supposed to be incredible! You were this great, legendary thing, and yet he gains!"

"Well," Bruce defended, concentrating on the climb, "I'm carrying three people. And he's got only himself."

"I do not accept excuses! I'm just going to have to find myself a new giant."

"Don't say that, Zola. Please."

Steve rolled his eyes at his captors. Was this really the time?

They had almost reached the top, and the mysterious man was only about 25 feet below them.

"Have I made it clear that your job is at stake?" Bruce rolled his eyes, but climbed faster.

They finally made it to the top. Natasha climbed off the giant while Bruce dangled from the edge of the cliff. She pulled Steve up, and gently set him down. He immediately curled up, happy to be back on the ground. She went back to pull up Zola, while Bruce made his own way.

Zola immediately ran over to where the rope had been secured. He didn't hesitate to pull out his own small knife and begin to saw at it. this would stop their pursuer.

The group watched as the rope went slack and slid off the edge of the cliff. Natasha and Bruce peered over the edge. They shared a look.

"He's got very good arms," Bruce remarked, clearly impressed. The stranger was clutching to the side of the cliff.

Natasha nodded in agreement as she stared down at him. The stranger had long brown hair that hung in his face. He was wearing all black, and what looked like a black mask that covered his entire face. He had a metal arm, with a red star on the bicep.

Zola stormed over to where they were standing and looked down, "He didn't fall!? Impossible!"

Natasha rolled her eyes and looked over at him, "You keep using that word. I do not think it means, what you think it means," before the small man could respond, she looked back at the man in black, "My God… he's climbing."

Indeed, he was. The man had started to, very carefully, climb the side of the cliff.

Zola glared, "Whoever he is, he has obviously seen us with the prince and must, therefore, die," he turned to Bruce, "You, carry him," he turned back to Natasha, "We'll head straight for the Jotunheim frontier. Catch up when he's dead. If he falls, fine. If not, the sword."

She nodded, before saying, "I'm going to duel him, right-handed."

Zola groaned, "You know what a hurry we're in!"

She shrugged, "Well, it's the only way I can be satisfied. If I use my left, it's over too quickly."

"Oh, have it your way," he scoffed, before heading off. As Natasha walked back over to the edge of the cliff, Bruce stopped her.

"You be careful," he told his friend, "People in masks cannot be trusted."

Natasha nodded.

"I'm waiting!" Zola whined. Bruce gently picked up Steve, and followed his boss.

Natasha looked around. They had climbed into the ruins of a castle. There were large stone steps, and many giant rocks. This was the perfect terrain to fight. She shook out her wrists, and began to stretch. This would be fun.


	3. And How He Loved Him, Oh So Much

**Author's Note: Warning for talk of past forced abortion, and character death.**

* * *

A few minutes later, Natasha was stretched and ready to go. The only problem was that her opponent was still hanging off the edge of the cliff, and she was starting to get bored. She leaned over the edge and shouted down at the mystery man, "Hello there!" the man looked up and she waved, "Slow going!"

"Look, I don't mean to be rude, but this is not as easy as it looks, so I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't distract me," the man's voice was a little muffled through his mask, but she could hear the irritation loud and clear.

"Sorry," she said with a smirk, backing away from the edge.

"Thank you," he said, distracted, going back to his climb.

She sighed, and pulled out her sword to do a few practice swings before she lost patience again and walked back over to the edge, "I don't suppose you could speed things up."

The man gave an impatient grunt, "If you're in such a hurry, you could lower a rope, or a tree branch, or just find something useful to do."

Natasha nodded, thoughtfully, "I could do that. I still have some rope up here, but I don't think you would accept my help, since I'm only waiting up here to kill you."

The man blinked, "That does put a damper on our relationship."

"But, I promise I will not kill you until you reach the top."

"…That's very comforting…but I'm afraid you'll just have to wait," the man said, sounding almost amused before going back to his climb.

"I hate waiting," Nat muttered to herself, "I could give you my word as a Russian!"

"No good," the man grunted, as he continued to climb, "I've known too many Russians."

She sighed, "Isn't there any way you'll trust me?"

"Nothing comes to mind."

Natasha took a deep breath and looked down into the man's blue eyes, "I swear on the soul of my husband, Clint Barton…you will reach the top alive."

The man looked into her eyes. They were pained, but honest, "…Throw me the rope."

Natasha smiled and ran over to the rock where the remains of the rope were wrapped. She unwrapped enough to throw down to the man, and helped pull him up.

"Thank you," the masked man said politely, before going to draw his sword.

"We'll wait until you're ready," she said, stopping him, before going to perch on a nearby rock.

"Again, thank you," he went to sit, and pulled his boots off, shaking some loose stones free. Natasha took the moment to study him. He was dressed entirely in black, not unlike herself, but there was no sleeve on his left side. Her eyes widened at the sight of his metal arm. It was obviously not what he was born with, but the entire thing moved like it was connected to his mind. She shook her head and looked away from the baffling appendage to take in the rest of him. He had shaggy brown hair that fell to just above his shoulders. He was wearing a black mask that covered the lower half of his face, and had black make up smeared around his eyes.

He looked young, but she needed to ask, "I don't mean to pry…but you don't happen to have six fingers on your right hand, do you?"

The masked man stopped shaking out his boots and looked up at her, "Do you always begin conversations this way?" he asked.

"My husband was slaughtered by a six-fingered man," she said, not showing any emotion.

The man dropped his boot to the ground, and lifted his right hand. The black leather glove had five fingers.

She nodded, not really surprised. When he went back to his boots, she began, "We had a nice home in Budapest, and we were happy. He was a great weapons maker, my husband. His specialty was arrows, but he could make any weapon a work of art. When the six-fingered man appeared and requested a special sword to work around his deformity, my husband took the job," she pulled her blade out of it's sheath, "He worked a year before he was done," she handed the weapon for the masked man to inspect.

He took it in hand and checked the balance. The elegant handle was extravagantly designed, but still functional. It was cut longer to accommodate an extra finger. It was truly a work of art, the type of sword you could have for years, and know it would never fail you. "I have never seen it's equal," the man said, genuinely impressed with the craftsmanship.

She took it back with a sad smile, "The six-fingered man returned, and demanded it…but at 1/10th his promised price. I was with a child, and we couldn't afford any less than what was promised. So, naturally, my husband refused, and without a word, the six-fingered man slashed him through the heart," she looked away for a moment to compose herself, "I loved my husband. So, naturally, the only thing I could think to do was challenge him to a duel…I failed. For some reason, the six-fingered man left me alive. But he gave me these," she turned her face to the side to reveal a thin scar on both sides of her face, "and this," she lifted her top, just enough for the stranger to see the scar low on her abdomen, "He took my husband, my unborn child, and any chance I had to have another baby."

She could see the sympathy in the man's eyes, "How old were you?" he asked.

"I was nineteen years old. When I was fully recovered, I dedicated my life to the study of fencing, so that the next time we meet, I will not fail. I will go up to the six-fingered man and say, 'Hello. My name is Natasha Romanoff. You killed my husband. Prepare to die."

"You've done nothing but study swordplay?" the stranger asked, sympathetic to her story.

She scoffed, "More pursuit than study, lately. You see, I cannot find him. It's been twenty years now, and I'm starting to lose confidence. I just work for Zola to pay the bills. There's not really a lot of money in revenge."

The man nodded, as he put his boots back on. Once they were secure, he got to his feet, "Well, I sincerely hope you find him someday," he said, sincerely.

"You're ready, then?"

"Whether I am or not, you've been more than fair."

"You seem a decent man. I truly hate to kill you," she said, sympathetically.

Even though his mouth was covered, she could see the smirk in his eyes, "You seem a decent woman. I hate to die."

She smiled. He would give her a welcome challenge, "Begin," she said, using her right hand to draw her sword.

The man drew his in his right hand as well, and they began.

It was tense for a moment, both were masters of the art of fencing, and they were taking the time to properly assess the others skill. After a few minutes, Natasha began to smile, "You are using Bonetti's defense against me, ah?" she said, recognizing the stile of the famed Italian sword master, Rocco Bonetti.

"I thought it fitting, considering the rocky terrain," the man confirmed.

"Naturally, you must suspect me to attack with Capo Ferro," in other words, a lunge attack. She forced him back into the ruins of the castle.

"Naturally, but I find that Thibault actually cancels out Capo Ferro, don't you?" she now noticed that he was definitely using Thibault, giving himself the high ground to protect from her lunges. She was suddenly annoyed.

"Unless the enemy has studied their Agrippa," otherwise known as over-the-top defensive strategies. She forced him farther back off the stones he was standing on, and he fell off the crumbled ledge, unfortunately for her, landing gracefully on his feet. She smirked and flipped over him in one graceful leap, landing behind him, and forcing him to turn around quickly, upsetting his balance, "Which I have," she said with a smile, attacking once more.

The man was quick on his feet, and quickly put her on the defense, "You are wonderful," she complimented.

"Thank you, I've worked hard to become so."

She smiled, "I admit that you are better than I am."

The stranger furrowed her brows, "Then why are you smiling?" he asked, suspicious.

Her smile grew, "Because I know something you don't know."

"And what is that?"

"I am not right-handed," she skillfully moved her sword to her left hand, immediately putting him on the defensive side once more. She forced him up a stone staircase, and pushed him against a wall. Loose stones fell over the side, and down the terrifying cliffs.

"You're amazing," the stranger complimented.

"I ought to be after twenty years," she said.

"There's something I ought to tell you," he said, grunting against her attack.

"Tell me," she commanded.

"I'm not right-handed either," the man pushed her off, and tossed his sword to his metal arm, and gave himself a few practice swings.

The battle turned serious. They had mainly been playing around, but the atmosphere had turned deadly. The clashing blades rang out like music over their fight.

That was when the unthinkable happened to Natasha. Her sword was knocked out of her hand, and off the platform they were standing on. She was shocked, but immediately jumped after her blade.

She picked it up, and turned back to her opponent, who had tossed his sword down to her level, where it landed point down, and was standing still. The stranger jumped down to where she was, flipping in the air to land perfectly by his sword.

She was shocked, "Who are you?" she needed to know.

"No one of consequence," he said, stone-faced.

She shook her head, "I must know."

"Get used to disappointment."

She narrowed her eyes, but attacked. There was no more banter, it was time to fight. It only took a few more clashes of the sword for Natasha to realize that this man was somehow better than she was. She was a master with the sword, and this strange man was besting her. He knocked her sword away for a split second, but that second was long enough to flick the tip of his sword by her face, causing her to flinch and loosen her grip on her sword. He knocked it to the ground and held his sword to her throat. She couldn't believe it.

She had lost.

Ashamed, she knelt to the ground, "Kill me quickly," she requested.

The man shook his head as he circled her, "I would sooner destroy a stained-glass window as an artist like yourself…however, since I can't have you following me, either…" he hit Natasha over the head with the hilt of his sword, causing her to black out.

The man in black looked down at the unconscious body of his foe, "Please understand, I hold you in the highest respect." He ran to grab his sheath from where he had left if, and ran to catch up the giant, the mastermind, and the prince.

* * *

"Impossible!" Zola screeched as the black clad figure ran over a hill in the distance. It was obviously not Natasha.

He looked around at the terrain. It was rocky, with extremely large boulders. Perfect for an ambush. He looked over at Bruce, who was carrying an annoyed looking Steve in his arms. Zola pulled out his knife and checked Steve's bonds before tugging him out of the giant's arms, "Give him to me!" Bruce gently placed him on the ground, not wanting to hurt the small prince, "Catch up to us quickly!"

"What do I do?" Bruce asked.

"Finish him! Finish him, your way!" he shrieked.

"Oh good, my way. Thank you, Zola," he said, as Zola angrily tugged Steve away, pressing the dagger to his slender side. Bruce scratched his head, "Which way's my way?" he asked.

Zola groaned, "Pick up one of those rocks, get behind the boulder. In a few minutes, the man in black will come running around the bend. The minute his head is in view, HIT IT WITH THE ROCK!"

Bruce shook his head as he watched his boss walk off with his captive, "My way doesn't sound very sportsmanlike," he muttered to himself, not liking the thought of killing someone without giving them a chance to survive. Regardless, he picked up a rock, and hid behind the boulder to await his prey.

* * *

The man in black followed the groups tracks up to a rocky hillside. He didn't like how this felt. There were large boulders, large enough for that giant to hide behind, and it was just too quiet.

The man in black cautiously pulled out his sword, and started forward when a rock came careening past his head to slam into the boulder he was standing in front of, and crumbling into dust. The masked man jumped and looked over to where the giant came out from behind the boulder he was hiding behind.

"I did that on purpose," he said, his deep voice slurring, "I didn't have to miss."

"I believe you," the man said, "So what happens now?"

Bruce looked down at his rock, and shrugged, "We face each other as God intended. Sportsmanlike. No tricks, no weapons. Skill against skill alone."

The stranger narrowed his eyes, "You mean, you'll put down your rock, and I'll put down my sword, and we'll both try to kill each other like civilized people?" he asked, with a touch of mockery in his voice.

Bruce was unamused, "I could kill you now," he said, displaying the rock he was still holding.

"Frankly," the man said, lowering his sword to the ground, "I think the odds are slightly in your favor at hand fighting."

"It's not my fault being the biggest and the strongest," Bruce said apologetically, tossing his rock aside, "I don't even exercise."

They assumed a fighting stance, and the masked man attacked. He rammed himself into the large body in front of him. The giant didn't even flinch. He pulled back only to rush at him again. He wrapped his strong arms around the giant and squeezed with all of his might. His metal arm had the strength of three men, but it wasn't doing anything to affect his opponent.

The man eventually gave up, and released the green giant, "Are you just fiddling around with me, or what?" he asked, angry and a little embarrassed.

"I just want you to feel you're doing well," the giant replied, smirking, "I hate for people to die embarrassed," he said, before lunging.

The man ducked down and rolled between the giant's legs.

"You're quick," Bruce complimented.

"A good thing, too," the stranger muttered under his breath.

"Why are you wearing a mask?" Bruce asked, his curiosity finally getting the better of him, "Were you burned by acid, or something like that?" he threw a punch that the other man dodged.

"Oh, no. It's just that I think they're terribly comfortable. I think everyone will be wearing them in the future," he said, skillfully dodging the giant's punches. Bruce moved so that his back was to a boulder, and the man took the opportunity given.

He quickly sidestepped the large man, and using the boulder to launch himself, jumped on the giant's back, wrapping his arms around his neck and squeezing.

Bruce stuttered as his arms uselessly tried to catch the man on his back, "I just figured out why you're giving me so much trouble," he said, backing into a boulder and putting all of his weight into it.

"oof! Why is that, do you think?" the man groaned.

"Well, I haven't fought just one person for so long," he pushed himself over to another boulder, "I usually fight large groups for local charities, things like that."

"Why should that make such a—oof! —difference?" he asked, voice strained as he was shoved into the boulder once more.

"Well, you see," the giant began, his breath coming out in uneven pants as he struggled to breath, "You use different methods when you're fighting half a dozen people than when you only have to worry about one."

He finally collapsed.

The man in black rolled him over, and pressed his ear to the large chest. When he heard the heartbeat, he looked up at the defeated giant, "I do not envy you the headache you will have when you awake. But in the meantime, rest well…and dream of large women," he had won. That was all that mattered. He didn't have to kill this man, who was just doing a job.

He ran over to his sword, and kicked it up, before following the tracks of the giant's boss, and their lovely captive.

* * *

Meanwhile, the rescue party from Asgard had finally found their way to the top of the Cliffs of Insanity. Prince Loki was there, as was his trusted advisor, Count Alexander Pierce, and a few of the strongest soldiers. Loki and Thor were both accomplished hunter's, and Thor wanted to go with them, but Loki had insisted he stay behind for the good of the kingdom.

Loki stared down at the footprints left in the sand, and noticed a definite pattern, "There was…a mighty duel," he followed the prints all over the terrain, "It ranged all over. They were both masters."

"Who won?" Count Pierce asked, "How did it end?"

"The loser ran off alone, while the winner…followed those footprints towards Jotunheim."

"Shall we track them both?"

"The loser is nothing. Only the Prince matters," he stalked back over to his horse, and mounted her. He looked at his guards, "Clearly, this was all planned by warriors of Jotunheim. We must all be ready for whatever lies ahead."

"Could this be a trap?" Count Pierce asked.

"I always think everything could be a trap," Loki replied, with a mischievous smirk, "Which is why I'm still alive."

He gave the command, and they rode after the footprints.

* * *

When the man in black walked over the hill, his heart nearly stopped.

Seated at a rock set like a table, with bread, apples, wine, and even a table cloth, was Zola, holding a knife to the prince's neck. The prince had a blindfold covering his eyes, and his hands were bound in front of him. When the man in black looked at the prince's face, he wasn't surprised to see he looked furious.

He had no doubt that if the prince had free hands, he would have punched Zola at least twice by now.

"So," the smug captor said, "It is down to you, and it is down to me."

He narrowed his eyes, and slowly approached the pair.

"If you wish him dead, by all means, keep moving forward."

He stopped and decided to change his tactic. He held his arms out to his sides in a peaceful gesture and smiled. His mask covered his mouth, but it would show in his eyes and resonate in his voice, "Let me explain."

Zola shook his head with a glare, "There's nothing to explain! You're trying to kidnap what I've rightfully stolen."

"Perhaps…an arrangement can be reached?" he suggested, not halting in his approach.

Zola shook his head, and grabbed the prince's arm in a bruising grip, "There will be no arrangement. And you're killing him!" He pressed the tip of the blade sharply into the prince's neck. A trickle of blood spilled down the slender neck, and the prince couldn't hold in his breath of pain. The man in black stopped short. This one was not like the giant, or the woman. This one would not make it out of this alive. He knew what he would do.

"If there can be no arrangement, then we are at an impasse," he declared, keeping his voice neutral.

"I'm afraid so. I can't compete with you physically, and you're no match for my brains."

"You're that smart?" _got him._

"Let me put it this way," the short man said, condescendingly, "You ever heard of Plato? Aristotle? Socrates?"

The man in black nodded.

"Morons."

"Really?" he barely managed to keep from laughing, "In that case, I challenge you to a battle of wits."

"For the prince?" a nod "To the death?" another nod "I accept."

"Good! Then pour the wine," he walked up to the makeshift table and took a seat opposite the other two men. Zola did as commanded, all the while studying his opponent. The strange man reached into one of the many hidden compartments on his outfit, and carefully pulled out a small brown tube. He gently removed the lid, and held it out towards Zola, "Inhale this, but do not touch."

Zola took the tube, and inhaled, smelling nothing. He said as much to the other man.

"What you do not smell is called Iocane Powder," the man in black explained, taking the tube back, "It is odorless, tasteless, dissolves instantly in liquid…and is among the more deadly poisons known to man."

Zola gave an unimpressed grunt.

The man in black carefully grabbed the full glasses of wine and turned his back to Zola. After a few seconds, he turned back, and mixed the glasses around before placing them back on the rock-table, "Alright, where is the poison? The battle of wits has begun. It ends when you decide, and we both drink. And we find out who is right, and who is dead."

"But it's so simple," Zola began, trying to figure out where the poison was, "all I have to do is divide from what I know of you. Are you the sort of man who would put the poison into his own goblet…or his enemies? Now, a clever man would put the poison into his own goblet, because he would know that only a great fool would reach for what he was given. _I_ am not a great fool, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. But you must've known I was not a great fool. You would've counted on it! So, I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me!"

"You've made your decision then?" the man in black asked, hiding his amused smirk behind his mask.

"Not remotely!" Zola declared, "Because Iocane comes from Australia, as everyone knows! And Australia is entirely populated by criminals, and criminals are used to having people not trust them, as you are not trusted by me, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you."

"Truly, you have a dizzying intellect," he said, trying not to roll his eyes. The Asgardians would catch up to them at this rate.

"Wait until I get going!" Zola paused, "…Where was I?"

"Australia."

"Yes! Australia! And you must have suspected I would know the powder's origin, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me."

"You're just stalling," he was starting to get irritated. He wanted to just pick up the prince, and run, but he couldn't leave Zola alive.

"You'd like to think that, wouldn't you!?" Zola yelled, angry, even though that was exactly what he was doing. "You've beaten my giant, which means you're exceptionally strong. So, you could've put the poison into your own goblet, counting on your strength to save you. So, I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. But you also bested my assassin, which means you must have studied. And in studying you would have learned that man is mortal, so you would've wanted to keep the poison as far away from yourself as possible, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me."

"You're trying to trick me into giving away something. It won't work."

"It has worked! You've given everything away, I know where the poison is!"

"Then make your choice!" he demanded, irritation finally showing in his voice.

"I will! And I choose—" he cut himself off with a gasp, "What in the world could that be?!"

Against his better judgement, the man in black turned around, "What? Where?" he knew it was just a diversion, but he also knew Asgard would be there sooner than later. As he had suspected, there was nothing.

"I didn't see anything," he said as he turned back around.

Zola was unable to contain his glee. He was finding it impossible to hold back his chuckles as he muttered, "Funny, I could've sworn I saw something. No matter!"

"What's so funny?" he asked, containing his own amusement. He knew what Zola was laughing about.

"I'll tell you in a minute. First, let's drink. Me from my glass, and you from yours."

Zola confidently picked up his glass, and the man in black did the same, resisting the urge to say that Zola should give him back his glass if that's how he wanted to do it. Zola gave a smug little salute, and the masked man returned the gesture. Not wasting anymore time, they both drank until the goblets were empty.

When they were finished, the man placed his back down, and said, "You guessed wrong," even though Zola had never guessed, he was still wrong.

"You only think I guessed wrong! That's what's so funny! I switched glasses when your back was turned!" Zola wasn't bothering to hide his laughter, he was laughing hard, fully belly laughs, "Ha ha, you fool! You fell victim to one of the world's most classic blunders! The most famous is never get involved in a land war with Asia. But only slightly less well known is this! Never go in against a Swiss, when death is on the line!"

He died laughing, with a smile on his face.

The man in black shook his head at the man, and carefully made his way over to the man who was now his captive. His hands were gentle as they removed the prince's blindfold and cut the binds on his hands and feet. He could see now how tight the bindings had been. There were harsh, red lines digging into the skin at his wrists and ankles, and his hands were an unnaturally pale white. He rubbed the appendages, trying to increase the blood flow.

Cold blue eyes stared into his own, "Who are you?" the prince asked, angry that he was still a captive.

"I'm no one to be trifled with," the man responded. His voice wasn't fake like it had been with Zola, but it still wasn't kind.

Steve looked over at Zola's corpse. He had been trying to figure out where the poison was, but he had honestly not guessed the outcome, "And to think…all that time it was your cup that was poisoned," he said, musing.

His new captor shook his head, "They were both poisoned," once he was sure the prince would be able to stand, he pulled him to his feet, holding the tiny hands in his large gloved, and artificial hands, "I've spent the last three years building up an immunity to Iocane powder."

Without another word, the man in black ran, holding onto his prince's hand.


	4. My Love is Like a Storybook Story

Loki's rescue party happened upon a rocky hill. Loki climbed down off his horse to examine the ground. There were obvious signs of a skirmish, and a very large dent in the ground.

"Someone has beaten a giant," he mused, "There will be great suffering in Jotunheim if he dies," he jumped back onto his horse, and they were off again.

* * *

Steve was exhausted and his captor could tell. As they were passing some boulders, the slim prince was pushed down onto one of them with a command to rest.

He took a moment to catch his breath before turning back to the strange man in black, "If you release me," he panted out, "whatever you ask for ransom, you'll get it. I promise you!" he was scared. This man was nothing like the other three. With them, he knew that Zola planned to kill him, but he had no idea why this masked man had tried so hard to get to him. He didn't like not knowing.

The man laughed, mockingly, "And what is that worth? The promise of someone like you? You're very funny, Highness."

Steve scoffed at him, "I was giving you a chance. It does not matter where you take me. Prince Loki is one of the finest hunters in the kingdom. He can track a falcon on a cloudy day, he can find you."

The mask covered his mouth, but Steve could clearly make out the smirk, "You think your dearest love can save you?"

Steve glared at him, "I never said he was my dearest love!" that title would only ever belong to his Bucky, "But yes, he will save me. _That_ I know."

The man in black looked shocked, "You admit to me you do not love your fiancé?"

"He knows I do not love him."

His captor scoffed, "Are not capable of love is what you mean."

Steve's eyes narrowed as he glared, furiously at this man who dared make such assumptions. He stood and angrily started forward. He stared up into the man's cold eyes, and hissed out, "I have loved more deeply than a killer like yourself could ever dream!"

Steve flinched when the strangers metal hand came flying towards his face, stopping inches away.

The man in black was furious, but he had never wanted Steve to be afraid of him. And he had never wanted to see him flinch away in fear. He lowered his hand, and pointed a finger at his captive, "That was a warning, Highness. But next time my hand flies on its own, for where I come from, there are penalties when a person lies," and with that, he grabbed Steve's tiny hand, and they ran off once more.

* * *

The rescue party stopped at the sight of Zola's corpse. Loki dismounted and walked over, examining the scene. The empty bottle of wine, as well as the empty goblets, but none of the food had been touched. On the ground next to the corpse, was a small brown tube. He picked it up, and carefully inhaled.

He could smell nothing, but there was still a fine layer of powder coating the inside of the tube. That, combined with the empty goblets helped him come up with his conclusion, "Iocane!" he declared, "I'd bet my life on it. And over there are the prince's footprints. He is alive…or was an hour ago. If he is otherwise when we find him, I shall be very put out."

* * *

After they had been running for about another two miles, the man in black threw him down onto a log. There were strategically placed logs sitting at the top of a very steep hill. They were obviously there for people to admire the view, considering the only trees around were down in the ravine.

"Rest, Highness."

Steve calmed his aching lungs before angrily stating, "I know who you are! Your cruelty reveals everything! You're that pirate known as the Winter Soldier! Admit it!"

He gave a cheeky bow, "With pride. What can I do for you?"

Steve's eyes were cold and merciless, "You can die slowly, cut into a thousand pieces, so long as I'm holding the knife."

The Winter Soldier tsk'd at him, "That's hardly complimentary, Your Highness. Why loose your venom on me?" he wondered if Steve would tell the truth or lie.

"You killed my love," his voice, though angry, still revealed the pain of his great loss.

"It's possible," the pirate said with a shrug, "I kill a lot of people," this was his chance to get the truth from him, without him lying to save face, "Who was this love of yours? Another prince like this one? Ugly, rich, scabby?"

"No!" Steve declared, furious at this man's casual attitude towards ruining his life, "A farm-boy! Poor! Poor and perfect…with eyes like the sea after a storm…" he whispered that last part to himself. Nearly losing himself in the memory of those gorgeous eyes that had only ever looked at him with love. He shook his head to clear it. It wouldn't do him any good to think of the ghost that haunted him. He turned back to his love's murderer, "On the high seas your ship attacked! And the Winter Soldier never takes prisoners!"

"I can't afford to make exceptions," the man shrugged, "Once word leaks out that a pirate's gone soft, people begin to disobey you, and then it's nothing but work, work, work all the time."

"You mock my pain!" Steve didn't think it was possible for him to hate this man any more.

"Life is pain, Highness," the pirate said, matter of fact, "Anyone who says differently is selling something."

Steve just stared at him before turning away. The man folded his arms, and cautiously approached the furious blond, "I remember this farm-boy of yours, I think. This would be…what? Five years ago?" Steve said nothing, "Does it bother you to hear?"

"Nothing you can say will upset me," Steve knew he was really telling himself. He could already feel the lump in his throat from the tears that he was refusing to shed.

The man narrowed his eyes, and continued with his story, "He died well. That should please you. No bribe attempts or blubbering. He simply said 'please…'" Steve looked up at that. All it had taken was a simple please to realize that Bucky loved him, "'Please I need to live.' It was the 'please' that caught my memory. I asked him what was so important to him? 'True love,' he replied," he gave Steve a meaningful look at that, "And then he spoke of a man of surpassing beauty and faithfulness, I can only assume he meant you," Steve flinched at that. He had remained faithful to a ghost for five years, and you cannot refuse a prince without a good reason. The pirate continued, "You should bless me for destroying him before he found out wat you really are," his voice dripped with contempt.

Steve was infuriated, "And what am I?!' he demanded, jumping to his feet, and tilting his head back to glare into his eyes.

The pirate snapped, finally showing anger instead of the mocking amusement he had been portraying before, "Faithfulness he talked of, Sir! Your _enduring_ faithfulness! Now tell me truly, when you found out he was gone did you get engaged to your prince in the same hour, or did you wait a whole week out of respect for the dead?!"

"You mocked me once, never do it again! I _died_ that day!" there was no room for doubt in Steve's voice. He spoke with five years of grief and sadness.

The pirate's eyes widened, but before he could say anything, a trumpet sounded. He turned around. On the cliff across from them was the rescue party from Asgard. The distraction was all he needed. Ever since he had been kidnapped, he had been waiting for the right time. His hands had been tied after his escape attempt on the boat, and there had never been a good time after he had been taken by the Winter Soldier. This was perfect.

"You can die too, for all I care," was the last thing he heard before a forceful shove pushed him down the hill.

As he rolled down the hill, thankfully missing any rocks, all he could think to do was yell out, "Aaaaasssss yoooooouuuuuu wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiisssshhhhhh!"

Steve couldn't believe it. Nobody else knew the meaning behind those words, "Bucky? What have I done!?" without thinking, Steve started to run down the hill. Unfortunately, due to how steep it was, Steve couldn't keep his balance, and ended up rolling head over feet down to the bottom of the ravine.

After nearly a minute of rolling down the hill, he finally slid to a stop. He winced as he felt the bruises forming on his body. Steve considered himself lucky he hadn't broken his neck.

As he was carefully rolling his wrists and ankles to make sure he hadn't broken anything, he felt the warmth of another body approaching him. Bucky was gentle as he wrapped his flesh arm around the back of Steve's head to cushion it, and softly trailed his metal hand down the length of Steve's arm, checking for breaks.

Steve stared up at his love. Bucky was alive. Changed, but alive. His eyes were still the same steel blue, and it looked like Bucky had tried to wipe away the black that had smeared them. He had lost the mask during his fall, so Steve was able to take in the rest of his features. He had tiny lines at the side of his eyes, and his skin was rougher then it had been five years ago. He had grown a beard, where he had been clean shaven, and his hair was longer, and he was definitely more muscular. But the biggest change was the arm. Steve wanted to ask about it, but it definitely wasn't the first thing he needed to know.

Looking into his eyes, Steve realized one thing that was still the same. Bucky was still looking at him with eyes full of love.

"Can you move at all?" his love asked, voice filled with concern.

Steve nearly laughed, "Move? You're alive! If you want, I could fly!" he wrapped his slim arms around Bucky's neck and pulled him down into a hug. Bucky's smile threatened to split his face but he needed one answer. He pulled back and looked down at his Steve.

"I told you I would always come for you," his voice was filled with sadness, "Why didn't you wait for me?" he was hurt.

"Well…" Steve started, trying to figure out the best way to explain, "the engagement was by order of the king, even though Loki was the one who chose me, I really didn't have much of a choice. And…you were dead," he finished, sadly.

Bucky was angry at himself over the hurt he had caused his love, and he found he couldn't really blame Steve. His smile was sad when he said, "Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while."

Steve smiled up at him, "I will never doubt again," he vowed.

"There will never be a need," Bucky promised in a whisper, before leaning down and meeting Steve in a long-awaited kiss. They definitely needed to talk through some things, but at the moment, all they needed was each other.


	5. But It's as Real as the Feelings I Feel

**Author's Note: I kinda hate this chapter, but I needed to get past this. Also, I must say; my name is Becky. You would not believe how hard it is to write Bucky.**

 **Chapter warning: there is a character injury in this chapter, and the death of an animal. I try to avoid swearing, because it can make people uncomfortable, but I couldn't think of a better reaction to being set on fire. Anna, if you're reading this, I apologize.**

* * *

Steve and Bucky raised along the ravine floor. The whinny of a horse brought them to a quick halt. They looked up to the top of the ravine and saw the Asgardian rescue party. There was no way for the group to reach them safely.

"Ha!" Bucky exclaimed with a smirk, "Your pig fiancée is too late."

Steve smiled at his love's mockery of Loki but looked around for a safe place to escape to. Loki might not be able to reach them at the moment, but as soon as they found a safe way into the ravine, they would be trapped. Unless…

The small man grabbed Bucky's metal hand and began to pull him along, "A few more steps and we'll be safe in the fire swamp."

Bucky really wanted to throw Steve over his shoulder and run the other way, but he saw no other way out, "We'll never survive," he said, matter of fact.

"Nonsense," Steve said, with a delighted skip, "You're only saying that because no one ever has."

"Naturally…why wouldn't we want to go into the most dangerous forest in the country. It's not like I've been gone for five years, and would like us both to remain alive or anything," Bucky muttered under his breath. If there was one thing about Steve that wasn't perfect, it was his lack of care to his own safety. But Bucky really didn't see any other way out, so he begrudgingly allowed the tiny man to lead him into the forest.

They stopped running once they were safely concealed by the large, frightening trees. Looking around at their surroundings, Steve couldn't help but wonder if they made the right choice. There was a thin mist hovering in the air, not enough to impair their vision, but it made the area much more intimidating. A wind rustled the leaves far above their heads and sent a chill down Steve's spin.

Bucky noticed his nervousness and tried to lighten the mood, "It's not that bad," he said, thoughtfully. Steve gave him a look that clearly said he was insane, "What? I'm not saying I'd like to build a summer home here, but the trees are actually quite lovely."

Steve rolled his eyes but couldn't quite hide his smile. Bucky always knew how to cheer him up. Hand in hand, they walked deeper into the forest. The heard a strange popping sound and stopped. When nothing happened, they continued walking with a shrug. An even louder pop rang out right before a large burst of fire sprang out of the ground, lighting the hem of Steve's trousers on fire.

"Shit!" Steve shouted as Bucky quickly knelt on the ground and started beating at the flames with his metal hand. Once the flames were out, he examined the skin around Steve's slender ankle. It was a little red, but otherwise unharmed.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Only Steve would catch fire ten feet into the fire swamp. Bucky just knew that man would give him a heart attack someday.

"Yeah. You?"

"I'm fine," he held up his hand, "No skin to burn."

Steve wanted to ask but didn't want to push. Saying nothing, he grabbed Bucky's flesh hand and started walking once more. Before they could get very far, the popping noise started up again. It was easier to tell where it was coming from this time, so Bucky grabbed Steve's waist, and lifted him out of the way just in time.

"One thing I will say," Bucky said, "the Fire Swamp certainly keeps you on your toes.

* * *

They had been walking for about thirty minutes when Bucky started talking again, "This will be a happy memory soon enough. The Winter Soldiers ship, SHIELD, is docked near the far end of the forest. And I, as you know, am the Winter Soldier."

Steve couldn't keep himself from asking, "How is that possible, though? Stories about the Winter Soldier go back almost fifty years, and you only left me five years ago."

Bucky's cheeks were tinged pink as he explained, "What I told you before about saying please was true. It intrigued the Soldier, as did my description of your beauty and spirit. He simply said, 'Alright, Bucky. I've never had a valet. We can try it for tonight, but I'll most likely kill you in the morning.' He said that every day for three years. 'Goodnight Bucky, good work, sleep well, and I'll most likely kill you in the morning.' It wasn't all bad, though. I was learning to fight, fence. Anything anyone would teach me. The only thing they didn't let me do was get word to you that I was okay. One day, we were raiding a ship, and I fell out of the crow's nest. It probably should have killed me, but I was able to grab onto things on my way down. It saved my life but took my arm. The Soldier ordered this one made for me, and we eventually became friends. Then it happened…" he trailed off.

"What?" Steve asked. Now that he was getting the answers he needed, he didn't want Bucky to stop talking, "Go on."

"…Well, the Soldier had grown so rich, he wanted to retire. So, he took me to his cabin, and told me his secret. 'I am not the Winter Soldier. My name is Erik. I inherited the ship, just as you will inherit it from me. The man I inherited it from wasn't the real Winter Soldier either. His name was Yondu. The real Winter Soldier has been retired thirty years and has been living like a king on a private island.' Then he explained that the name was what was important, because no one would surrender to the Dred Pirate Bucky. He also explained that, with the name, you couldn't keep any ties to the past. Yondu had retired to find his adopted son, and Erik was retiring to track down his old friend Charles, who ran a school in a town known as Westchester. They hadn't parted on the best of terms, and Erik was hoping to apologize and hopefully expand their relationship. So, we sailed ashore, and took on an entirely different crew. He stayed on as first mate, referring to me, simply as Soldier. Once the crew believed, we sailed to Westchester to drop him off, and I went searching for you. Now that I found you, I'm going to retire, and hand the name off to someone else. Is everything clear now?"

Steve nodded, but needed to take a moment to take everything in. He was happy that Bucky hadn't abandoned him, but also furious with himself at being happy. He was horrified when Bucky told him about his arm, but he could tell he didn't want to talk about it, so he couldn't say anything. He wanted to punch that Erik fellow for keeping his love, and he wanted to hug him for sparing him. He—

Bucky watched in horror as Steve disappeared into the ground with a startled yelp. He looked down at the white sand below him and knew he didn't have much time. Bucky drew his sword and cut free a thick vine. He took a deep breath before jumping after Steve.

There were a few, heart-stopping moments when he was certain that he would never find him before he ran out of vine, but then his fingers brushed up against a small hand. He grabbed ahold of it and pulled the smaller body up against his. He nearly cried when Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky's neck and held on for dear life. Bucky didn't waste time before climbing the vine back to safety, just as Steve's arms went limp, as he passed out.

Bucky pulled himself out of the hole, and gently laid Steve on the solid ground. He brushed the sand away from his nose to clear his airway and pressed his lips to Steve's. He had learned this shortly after becoming a pirate, and he had never been more grateful. He continued to give him air until his eyes opened. Bucky quickly turned Steve onto his side as he coughed the sand out of his lungs. All he could do was rub the smaller man's back and pray for him to be okay. He only just got him back.

When Steve was finally able to stop coughing, he sat up and, struggling to catch his breath, said, "We'll never succeed. We may as well just die here," he sounded defeated.

Bucky didn't like that. Steve never gave up, and he never backed away from a fight, but he was tired. In the past two days he had been forced unconscious, abducted, nearly eaten by eels, forced to scale a deadly cliff, found out the love of his life was not dead, nearly broke his neck rolling down a hill, caught fire, and now, was nearly suffocated by sand. He was exhausted. It was no wonder he was ready to just give up. But while Bucky could understand that much, he refused to let Steve give up.

"No," he said gently, "No, we have already succeeded," he pulled Steve to his feet, and pulled him away from the lightning sand, "I mean, what are the three terrors of the Fire Swamp? One; the flame spurt. No problem! There's a popping sound proceeding each, we can avoid that. Two; the lightning sand. You were clever enough for us to discover what that looked like, so in the future, we can avoid that, too!"

Steve stopped him as a thought occurred to him, "Buck…what about the ROUS's?"

"Rodents of unusual size?" Bucky asked, "I don't think they exist."

Naturally, that was when a ROUS jumped out at the pair and knocked Bucky to the ground. They were hideous, giant rat like creatures covered in a mangy brown fur, with hideous yellow teeth and beady red eyes. Bucky screamed when the creatures' fangs latched onto Bucky's flesh arm. He struggled to free his metal arm and punched the rodent in the head. It was knocked off him with a whimper but didn't waste time climbing back on top of him before the pirate could reach his sword. He wrestled with the rat while Steve searched for something to beat it with.

He was so caught up in his search that he didn't notice the monstrous creature scurrying towards him until it bit his foot and forced him to the ground with a cry of pain. It started chewing on his feet and legs. He grabbed onto a large stick that he had been going for before he was attacked and hit the rodent over the head with all his might…he didn't have much might, but he could at least try.

When Bucky heard Steve scream he stopped looking for his sword, which had been knocked out of his reach during the first attack and hurried back to tackle the thing. He managed to pull it off his small lover, but the thing dug his fangs into his shoulder, and would not let go. Steve scrambled to his feet before falling once more. The bites on his feet and legs were much worse than he thought they'd be, and they couldn't support his weight. Wincing, he scurried over to where Bucky continued to wrestle with the rodent, but he never made it.

The popping sound that proceeded the flame spurt sounded nearby, and Bucky quickly rolled them just in time. The flames went up right under the ROUS. It gave out a whimper of pain, and Bucky quickly stood to retrieve his sword. Bucky was a kind, and compassionate man, but this thing had nearly killed him, and hurt Steve. he felt no mercy or pity as he stabbed the monster through the heart. It gave one last groan of agony and died.

Bucky looked over at his lover. Steve was still on the ground, and his legs were bleeding. But as Bucky helped him to his feet, he muttered, "I had it on the ropes."

Bucky hadn't thought it would be possible to laugh after that, "I know you did," he laughed.

Bucky tore part of his shirt and wrapped the still bleeding wounds on Steve's legs, before picking him up.

Despite Steve's numerous protests, Bucky carried him the rest of the way out of that terrible swamp. When they were finally out, he set him back on the ground with relief, but continued to support his weight.

"We made it," he announced. He was hurt, and bleeding, but they were alive.

Steve smiled up at him, "Now, was that so terrible? I told you we'd be fine."

Bucky rolled his eyes with a laugh but leaned down to kiss the crazy man he was in love with.

Before their lips could touch, the Asgardian rescue part came upon them.

Bucky shielded Steve with his body and held his sword aloft in front of him. He couldn't believe it. He finally had Steve back after five years, and they had just been through Hell. He would not let that snake take him away.

Prince Loki sneered down at the pirate, "Surrender!" he commanded.

"You mean you wish to surrender to me?" Bucky asked, cockily, not hiding the fact that he was mocking the prince, "Very well, I accept."

Loki rolled his eyes, "I give you full marks for bravery. Don't make yourself a fool."

Bucky smirked at him, "Ah, but how will you capture us? We know the secrets of the fire swamp. We can live there quite happily for some time, so whenever you feel like dying, feel free to visit."

While Bucky was arguing with Loki, Steve was looking at the guards who were surrounding them. He could see at least three with crossbows pointing at Bucky. He couldn't let them kill him.

"I'll tell you once again, surrender!" Loki was getting angry.

"Will not happen," Bucky said, voice infuriatingly calm. Loki's patience had officially run out. He drew his sword.

"For the last time! Surrender!"

"Death first!" Bucky screamed.

"Will you promise not to hurt him!?" Neither man could believe their ears. Loki couldn't believe his fiancée was trying to protect his captor, and Bucky couldn't believe Steve was going to surrender.

"What was that?" they asked, confused.

Steve's legs were nearly numb, but he held himself tall and firm as he glared up at Loki, "If we surrender, and I return with you, will you promise not to hurt this man?"

Loki held a hand to his heart, "I swear it on the life of my brother."

Steve didn't trust him, but he had no other options. Bucky wouldn't win if it turned into a fight, and Steve would not see him die, "He is a sailor on the pirate ship SHEILD. Promise to return him to his ship!" he demanded.

"I swear it will be done!" he motioned to the guards and they went to tie Bucky's arms behind his back. While they were distracted, Loki turned back to Count Pierce, "Once we're out of sight, take him back to Asgard and throw him in the Pit of Despair."

Alexander smirked, "I swear it will be done."

Bucky stared at Steve, desperate to know why he did that. Steve didn't look away from his eyes as he explained, "I thought you were dead once, and it almost destroyed me. I could not bear it if you died again…not while I could save you."

Before he could say anything more, Loki rode up behind him and lifted him onto his horse. Bucky could only watch as the love of his life was taken away by the slimy prince.

A voice grabbed his attention, "Come sir," Count Pierce invited, "We must return you to your ship."

Bucky glared at the count, "We are men of action. Lies do not become us."

The Count smirked, "Well spoken, Sir." As the guards went to grab him, Bucky's eyes were drawn to the man's strange right hand. There were six fingers.

"You have six fingers on your right hand. Someone was looking for you." Furious, the Count awkwardly took his sword and hit the pirate over his head.

Everything went black.


	6. Don't You Know I Love You oh so Much

**Author's Note: Warnings for torture and talk of suicide.**

* * *

Bucky woke up with an ache in his remaining arm, and a splitting headache. He was in some type of dungeon. It was hot, and musty, and there were too many torture devices for his own peace of mind. The creaking of a door stole his attention, and he looked over to see an old man with tinted spectacles, a gray mustache and slicked gray hair standing over him with a tray. The man put his tray down and began to blot at the wound on Bucky's shoulder with a salve.

"Where am I?" the injured man asked, realizing for the first time that he was strapped to a table.

"The Pit of Despair," the old man croaked, "Don't even think about trying to escape. The chains are far too thick. And don't dream of being rescued, either. The only way in is secret. Only the Prince, the Count and I know how to get in or out."

"Then I'm here until I die?" he could deal with that. It would be more than enough time to figure out a way to escape.

"Until they kill you," the old man smiled, turning back to his tray to begin dressing the wound.

Bucky looked at him in confusion, "Then why bother curing me?" it all seemed rather pointless to him.

He shrugged, "The Prince and the Count always insist on everyone being healthy before they're broken."

"So, it's to be torture," wonderful. The old man nodded, looking far too happy with the situation, "I can cope with torture," he wouldn't like it, but he had had his arm ripped off, and then had a metal one reattached, on a pirate ship, with only a bottle of whiskey to dull the pain. He would be fine.

Apparently, his nurse/jailor disagreed, because he was shaking his head, "You don't believe me?" Bucky was almost insulted.

"You survived the fire swamp, you must be very brave. But _nobody_ withstands the machine."

And with those kind words of encouragement, the old man wandered off, leaving Bucky to wonder about this machine.

* * *

In the weeks following his reunion, and subsequent separation with Bucky, Steve had been wandering the castle in a daze. The official story was that he was upset by King Odin's failing health, and the ever-constant threat of a war with Jotunheim, which would surely see Crown Prince Thor amid the danger. But the truth was that Steve hated himself for leaving with Loki. He had had his love back in his arms, and he had given it up. He was nothing but garbage. And now, Bucky probably thought he hated him. Steve had left because he couldn't lose his love again, and he had been too foolish to realize that he would lose him anyway.

The small man rarely ate, and the small amount of sleep he was able to get was plagued by nightmares.

One night, he jerked himself awake after yet another bad dream. There were ten days until the wedding, and he couldn't do it anymore. He jumped out of bed and grabbed his robe. He needed to see his fiancé.

He burst into Loki's study, "It comes to this, I love Bucky, I always have. I know that I always will. Not even death made me stop loving him, and so if you tell me that I must marry you in ten days, I will be dead by morning," or he would simply run away and find Bucky. What would be the point of finding each other again if Steve did something like end his own life.

Loki looked up from his book, a frown marred his elegant features. He hesitated, before saying, "I could never cause you grief…consider our wedding off."

Steve frowned, contrary to popular belief, he was anything but stupid. It should not have been this easy. Loki was called Silvertongue for a reason. He was planning something.

Loki turned to Count Pierce, who Steve only just realized was standing in the corner, "You returned this…Bucky to his ship?"

"Yes," the Count confirmed.

The Prince nodded before turning back to Steve, "Beloved, are certain he still wants you? After all, it was you who did the leaving in the Fire Swamp, and pirates are not known to be men of their words."

Steve's blue eyes narrowed, "My Bucky will always come for me."

Loki nodded, and thought for a minute before going on, "I suggest a deal," he turned to his betrothed, "You write four copies of a letter. I'll send my four fastest ships! The Dread Winter Soldier is always close to Asgard this time of year! We'll run up the white flag and deliver your message. If Bucky wants you, bless you both," Steve didn't trust Loki, but nodded nonetheless. The Prince stepped closer to him, "If not…please consider me as an alternative to suicide?" Steve nodded once more before taking his leave.

As soon as he got to his room, he sat down to write the letters. He didn't trust Loki to keep his word, but it would be suspicious if he didn't write them.

 _My Dear Bucky,_

 _I never meant to hurt you when I left. I only wanted to save you. I did not agree to go with Loki out of any sense of love or obligation, it was only because we were surrounded by armed guards, and to lose you again would kill me. If you forgive me, come to me. Loki has agreed to call off the wedding if you still want me. Neither you nor your crew will be arrested if you decide to come. Please my love, you said you would always come for me, and I need you to come for me now. My wedding is the night of the 500th anniversary of Asgard, and I hope to see you before then. Let us be together._

 _Love, Steve_

When he had written the letters four times, and passed them off to Loki to send out, he sat back down and wrote one final letter.

 _To the crew of SHIELD,_

 _My name is Steven. I am hoping this letter will find the Captain, but if what I fear is true, you have not seen him for a few weeks. Bucky, if you're there, you'd better know that I did what I did to save your life. I will not apologize for it. To the crew, I am the Prince engaged to Prince Loki. If your Captain is not with you, then I fear that my betrothed is responsible. The evening of Asgard's 500th anniversary is my wedding to Prince Loki. I need you to be at a port near the castle. If I am lucky, I will return your Captain to you. If my fears are unfounded, and Bucky is there and safe, and simply does not want me, tell my manservant, and I will trouble you no more. If he is not there, come to Asgard, and my manservant will inform me of which port you are docked at._

 _Best of luck,_

 _Prince_ Steven

When he finished with his second letter, he sealed it, and summoned his manservant, Phil. He gave him the letter with strict orders not to let anybody read it except for the first mate on the pirate ship SHIELD. Phil looked nervous but was always willing to help the prince. He rode off right away. Steve breathed a sigh of relief. Now all he could do was wait.

* * *

Later that same day, Prince Loki and Count Alexander Pierce were walking through the forest when the conversation turned to Loki's betrothed.

"He is quite the winning creature. A tad simple, but charming," Pierce complimented. He couldn't believe Steve trusted that Loki would summon the pirate.

Loki smirked, "I know, the people are quite taken with him," he laughed, "When I hired Zola to have him murdered on our engagement day I thought that was clever, but it's going to be so much more moving when I strangle him on our wedding night! Once Jotunheim is blamed, the nation will be truly outraged, they'll demand we go to war. Naturally, Thor and I will lead the army, and he will not make it out alive. Then all I have to do is get my father out of the way, and I will be king."

Pierce smiled at his Prince, before turning back to the forest. He knew he was at the right tree, but the entrance was so well hidden it was almost impossible to find. "Aha!" he exclaimed, triumphantly when the door swung open. He started to head down, but stopped when he noticed Loki wasn't following him, "Are you coming down into the pit? Bucky's got his strength back, I'm starting him on the machine tonight."

"Alexander, you know how much I love watching you work, but I've got my country's 500th anniversary to plan, my wedding to arrange, my husband to murder, and Jotunheim to frame for it. I'm swamped."

The Count gave a sympathetic nod before putting a hand on Loki's shoulder, "Get some rest. If you haven't got your health, you haven't got anything." The men shared a sadistic smile before going their separate ways.

* * *

Bucky was a little apprehensive as his table was rolled over to a frightening looking machine. His strength was back, and he was ready for a fight, but he was hopeless on that table. All he could do was wait and see what they were going to do to him.

The vile six-fingered Count was standing by the machine, "It's beautiful, isn't it?" he sounded like a father with his newborn babe, "It's taken half a lifetime to invent. I'm sure you've discovered my deep undivided interest in pain. I'm currently writing the definitive work on the subject, so I want you to be totally honest with me on how the machine makes you feel. With this being our first try, I'll use the lowest setting."

The Count walked over to a stand near the machine. It was numbered 1-50 and had an attached lever. He raised the lever up to 1, and the machine started up.

Bucky was helpless to do anything as the machine groaned to life. The old man had attached him to the machine, and he could feel it.

It was agonizing.

It felt like hundreds of hot needles were stabbing into his skin. In the places where he was hooked up to the machine, it felt like the skin was being torn from his body. The worst part was the strap that had been wrapped around his head. It seemed to get unbearably tight, and he felt as though his brain was being wiped clean. As if he wouldn't know who he was after this. The pain was terrible, but the fear of losing himself was unbearable.

It only lasted for a few minutes before Pierce turned the machine off. He went on to say, in that damned calm voice of his, "As you know, the concept of the suction pump is centuries old, and that's really all this is. Except instead of sucking water…I'm sucking life. I've just sucked one year of your life away. I might, one day, go as high as five, but I really don't know what that would do to you, so for now, let's just start with what we have," he sat down at his desk, and pulled out a piece of parchment to take notes, "Now tell me, what did this do to you. And remember, this is for posterity, so be honest. How do you feel?"

Bucky couldn't help it. He began to cry.

"Interesting," he muttered, writing down his observation. They were only at the beginning.

* * *

Once Loki had returned to the castle, he set to work. His first order of business was calling in the head of the palace guard, Rumlow.

When the man entered, Loki impatiently gestured for him to kneel at his side, which he did without question. The Prince leaned in, and spoke quietly, "As Chief Enforcer of all of Asgard, I entrust you with this secret. Killers from Jotunheim are infiltrating the Thieves Forest, and plan to murder my groom on our wedding night."

Rumlow was confused, "My spy network has heard no such news."

Before Loki could respond, they were interrupted by a voice in the doorway, "Any word from Bucky?"

They both stood at the sight of Steve, "It's too soon, my angel!" Loki said, rather condescendingly. Steve's eyes narrowed, it had been a week. The wedding was in three days. That was hardly too soon. And he knew that because Phil had returned an hour ago. He had informed him that the first mate of SHIELD, a strong woman by the name of Peggy Carter had told him that Bucky had never returned, and they would be waiting for them from a safe distance. Loki had lied. Steve just glared and nodded, before walking off.

As soon as he was out of sight, the two men sat back down, and Loki angrily turned back to Rumlow, "He will _not_ be murdered! On the day of the wedding, I want the Thieves Forest emptied, and every inhabitant arrested."

Rumlow shook his head, "Many of the thieves will resist. My regular enforcers will be inadequate."

"Form a brute squad, then! I want the Thieves Forest empty before I wed!" and that was that.

* * *

The day of the wedding arrived. The brute squad had their hands full carrying out Loki's orders. Rumlow walked over to the head brute, "Is everybody out?"

"Almost, there's a woman giving us some trouble."

Rumlow rolled his eyes, "Well, you give her some trouble."

The Brute nodded and went to carry out his orders. Meanwhile the woman, Natasha, was drunk as a skunk, and rambling to no one.

"I am waiting for you, Zola!" she slurred, "You told me to go back to the beginning, so I have! This is where I am! This is where I will stay! I will not be moved!" Natasha was sprawled out in front of her house, her sword in one hand, and a nearly empty bottle in the other. Clint would be disappointed, but Clint wasn't around. A brute came around the corner.

"Ho there!" he greeted.

She rolled her eyes, "I will not budge, keep your 'ho there,'" she muttered.

"The prince gave orders!"

She dropped the bottle and lashed out with her sword, snarling like a rabid dog, "So did Zola! When the plan went wrong, we went back to the beginning! Well, this is where I got the job, so it's the beginning. And I am waiting until Zola comes."

He glared down at here, before another brute got his attention. If anyone could get her out of here, it was him, "You, brute! Come here!"

She started laughing, "I am waiting for Zola!" she backed into a brick wall, "Let's not make a fuss!"

The brick wall spoke, as a large hand came down on her shoulder "There's no need to scream at us." A memory came through her drunken mind, and she grabbed the large hand resting on her shoulder. It was huge, and tinted green. She followed the line of the arm up to the familiar face, and she smiled.

"It's you."

He smiled down at her, "True," before knocking the other brute out. He looked down at his dear friend. His dear friend who probably had alcohol poisoning, "You don't look so good," she scoffed in his face, and he winced, "You don't smell so good either."

She shook her head and patted him on the chest, "Maybe, but I feel fine." He smiled and let her go, only for her to fall to the ground, unconscious. Bruce sighed. He had a lot of work to do.

Bruce and Natasha were finally reunited, and as Bruce nursed his inebriated friend back to health, he told her about Zola's death and the existence of Count Pierce, the six-fingered man. He had met him after joining the brute squad, and immediately noticed his deformity. She handled the news better than Bruce had expected. Mainly because she passed out into her soup.

Bruce realized that they didn't have much time and filled two large buckets. One with hot water, the other with cold. It wasn't the best method, but it would get the job done. It made her very mad, but it sobered her up very quickly, "That's enough!" she shouted, pulling away from him, "Where is this Count Pierce, so I may kill him?"

"He's with the prince in the castle, but the castle gate is guarded by thirty men!"

She sighed, exasperated. So close, only to be stopped by something so small. She looked up at her friend, "How many could you handle?"

"I don't think more than ten," he answered, apologetically.

"Leaving twenty for me," she was losing hope, "At my best, I could never defeat that many. I need Zola to plan, I have no gift for strategy."

"But Zola's dead," Bruce reminded.

"No," she said softly, "Not Zola. I need the man in black."

"What?"

She rushed up to him, and grabbed him by the collar, forcing him to look her in the eyes as she explained, "He bested you at strength, your greatness. He bested me with steel. He must've out-thought Zola! And a man who can do that can plan my castle onslaught any day! Let's go!" she grabbed her sword and stormed to the door.

"Where?" Bruce followed her.

"To find the man in black, obviously!"

"But you don't know where he is!" he tried to reason with her, but she just shook him off.

"Don't bother me with trivial things. For the first time in twenty years my husband's soul will be at peace. There will be blood tonight!" and she raced off to find the man who would help her get her revenge, Bruce trailing after her.

* * *

Loki sat in his study, sharpening his dagger when Rumlow came running into the room, and knelt, "Rise, and report," he commanded.

"The Thieves Forest is empty. Thirty men guard the castle gate."

"Double it. My prince must be safe."

"The gate has but one key," Rumlow offered, showing the item hanging around his neck, "And I carry that."

Loki smiled, but repeated his command. Steve walked into the room, "Ah, my darling!" he rose to greet him, and took his hands, "Tonight, we marry!" he looked at Rumlow over his shoulder, "Tomorrow morning your men will escort us to Asgard Chanel, where every ship in my armada wait to accompany us on our honeymoon!"

Steve smiled. That was the slip up he had been waiting for, "Every ship but your four fastest, you mean?" he felt very satisfied when Loki's smile dropped, "Every ship but the four you sent?" he clarified, knowing it wouldn't do any good.

"Yes," Loki stammered, "Yes, of course! Naturally, not those four."

Rumlow could feel the tension and decided to excuse himself. Steve didn't spare him a glance. He had been waiting for this for far too long, "You never sent the ships," there was not a sliver of doubt in his tone, "It was a lie," his smile grew. He still had his plan, "It doesn't matter. My Bucky will come for me anyway."

Loki sneered at him, "You're a silly boy," his voice dripped with contempt.

Steve glared up at him, "Yes, I am a silly boy! For not having seen earlier that you are nothing but a coward with a heart full of fear!"

The Prince angrily sheathed his sharpened dagger, but his voice was still calm when he said, "I would not say such things if I were you."

Steve smiled once again, he had been waiting for this, "Why not? You can't hurt me. Bucky and I are joined by the bonds of love. And you cannot track that. Not with a thousand bloodhounds. And you cannot break it! Not with a thousand swords! And when I say you are a coward, that is only because you are the slimiest weakling ever to crawl the earth!"

Loki slammed down his dagger and grabbed her roughly by the arm, " ** _I would not say such things if I were you!_** " he growled out as he dragged a struggling Steve out of the study. He kept a bruising grip on his arm as he threw Steve into his bedroom and locked him in, before running out of the castle. He would show that boy who was a coward. He ran all the way to the pit of despair and, ignoring Alexander and the old man, hissed in Bucky's ear, "You truly love each other. And so, you might have been truly happy! Not one couple in a century has that chance, no matter what the storybooks say. And so, I think no man in a century will suffer as greatly as you will."

With that, he ran over to the lever, and pushed it all the way up to 50, ignoring Alexanders warning. He felt true satisfaction as Bucky began to writhe and convulse as a scream tore through his throat and echoed through the forest into the city.


	7. Storybook Love Always Has a Happy Ending

**Author's Note: I have no excuse for taking more than a year to update, other than the fact that I am a huge jerk. On the bright side, this is the last chapter. I am so sorry, but I hope you enjoy it.**

 **Chapter warnings: suicide attempt, character death**

* * *

The pained cry tore through the kingdom.

As soon as Natasha heard the scream, she stopped. She knew that sound. She had made that sound. She stopped Bruce with a light hand to the chest, "Listen, do you hear? That is the sound of ultimate suffering. My heart made that sound when Pierce slaughtered my husband. The Man in Black make it, now," there was no doubt in her mind.

"The Man in Black?" her companion asked.

Natasha rolled her eyes and looked up at him, "His true love is marrying another tonight. Who else has the cause for ultimate suffering?" Bruce didn't have an answer, so she started pushing through the crowded market. Everyone was on their way towards the castle to offer their support for the union, but for Natasha and Bruce, they were making it impossible to get through. The redhead just rolled her eyes and said, "Bruce."

"EVERYBODY MOVE!" it was very effective, and the duo finally managed to make their way into the woods.

The pair had been searching for about twenty minutes when they saw a short old man pushing a wheelbarrow through the woods. Normally, this wouldn't be suspicious, but he was acting as though he had reached his destination, even though there was nothing around to harvest.

Natasha drew her sword and silently walked up to him. The mercenary gently stooped the man with the side of her sword to his cheek, "Where is the man in black?" he said nothing, "That scream came from this grove, yes?" silence. Annoyed, she turned to her friend, "Bruce, jug his memory."

A large fist smashed down on the old man's head, causing him to drop to the ground, "Sorry, Nat. I didn't mean to jug him so hard." When Natasha didn't respond, Bruce looked around the clearing for her. She was going around to each tree, examining them as if they held all of the secrets to the universe, "Nat?"

She shook her head at him, "The scream was coming from here. The old man was coming here for a reason. There must be something here!" she stopped at a huge, tree. There was something different about this one. She narrowed her eyes and examined it. It almost looked as though a door was carved into the side. Curious, she began pushing at the tree. Natasha figured that this would either work, or she would look ridiculous.

She was ready to give up when she felt the tree give, and a door swung open. She shared a look with Bruce, and the duo walked into the tree.

As they walked down the steps and into the pit, they couldn't believe their eyes. There were so many torture devices! Ones that had been outlawed in Asgard for about two and a half centuries! And there were also some that Natasha knew she had never heard of. The worst thing was that each device and object for torture were stained with a dark rust. How many people had been tortured down here?

"Natasha," Bruce's soft voice pulled her back, he was walking towards a table that was set up in front of a monstrous machine in the back of the room. Lying on the table was the man with the metal arm. He was without his mask, and without his shirt, and worst of all, without breath. Bruce looked at his friend and bent down to listen for a heartbeat. There was nothing, "He's dead," the giant sadly informed her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, and muttered, "This is not fair."

Bruce just looked at his disheartened friend. She was right. This wasn't fair, but maybe…

The Man in Black's shirt was crumpled on a nearby chair, and Bruce quickly dressed the deceased man and picked him up, gently placing his limp body over his broad shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Natasha asked. The man was dead, what use could he be?

Bruce was already walking when he responded, "I have an idea."

* * *

Natasha banged on the door of the hut.

"Go away!" a voice from inside demanded.

She knocked again.

A groan sounded through the door and a section opened to reveal a man. He was younger than she was expecting, with dark brown hair, and artful facial hair, "What? What?"

"…Are you the Miracle Man, Anthony who worked for the king all of those years?" he was said to be the greatest Miracle Man who ever lived, but he didn't look any older than Natasha.

The short man glared at her through the door, "The king's slimy son fired me. And thank you so much for bringing up such a painful subject! While you're at it, why don't you just give me a nice paper cut and pour lemon juice on it! We're closed!" he slammed the hatch once again. Nat didn't waste a second to bang on the door once again, "Beat it!" he shouted when he answered, "Or I'll call the brute squad!"

"I'm on the brute squad," Bruce broke in, drawing Anthony's attention.

"You are the brute squad," he said after a quick once over.

"We need a miracle, it's very important," Natasha said, before he could retreat again.

Anthony groaned, "Look, I'm retired! Besides, why would you want someone the king's slimy son fired? I might kill whoever you wanted me to miracle!"

"He's already dead," Bruce said, motioning to the body over his shoulder.

"He is, huh? I'll take a look, bring him in," he finally unlocked the door and motioned the group inside.

Bruce gently set him down on the table in the main room of the hut, and Anthony began his examination. He took his pulse, nothing. Checked for breath, nothing. Checked his pupils. Nothing happened, "I've seen worse."

Natasha stared at him in annoyance as he poked and prodded, "Sir," no response, "Sir?" she said again, with a bit of bite in her voice this time. Anthony looked up, "We're in a terrible rush."

Anthony shook his head at her, "Don't rush me, missy. If you rush a Miracle Man, you get rotten miracles. Do you have money?"

She nodded, "65."

Anthony scoffed, "I never worked for so little. Except once! But that was a very noble cause."

"This is very noble, Sir!" she proclaimed, and it wasn't her best lie, but she was in a hurry, "His wife is crippled, and his children are on the brink of starvation!"

Anthony didn't look impressed, "Are you a rotten liar."

Natasha looked him dead in the eyes, "I need him to help avenge my husband, murdered these twenty years by Count Pierce!"

Anthony shook his head, "Your first story was better. He probably owes you money, right?" he turned away to look for a tool, "Well, I'll ask him."

"He's dead, he can't talk."

"Well, well, well, look who knows so much! Well, it just so happens that your friend here, is only mostly dead. You see, there's a big difference between mostly dead, and all dead. Now with mostly dead, it means he's slightly alive," he put the tool he had grabbed up to the Man in Black's lips. It resembled a pump for a fire place. He put the tip into his mouth and began pumping air into the body on his table, "With all dead, there's usually only one thing you can do."

"What's that?"

"Go through his clothes and look for loose change," Anthony laughed at his joke before putting the tool on the counter behind him. He leaned close to the body and began to shout, "Hey! Hello in there! What's so important!? What do you have here, that's worth living for!?" he leaned back, and pressed his hands onto his patient's chest, pushing the air out.

As the air left his body, it pushed words out with it, a grumbled, "Truuuuuueeee looooooovvvve," left the body in a groan.

Natasha jumped on it, "True love, did you hear! You cannot ask for a more noble cause than that!"

He shook his head, "Missy, true love is the greatest thing in the world! Except for a nice MLT, mutton, lettuce, and tomato sandwich, where the mutton is nice and lean, and the tomato's ripe. It's so perky! I love it. But that's not what he said! He distinctly said, 'To blaaaaathe' and as we all know, to blathe, means to bluff! So, you were probably playing cards, and he cheated—"

"Liar! Liar!" he was cut off when a beautiful, angry woman came running into the room. She was a little younger than Anthony, with lovely light red hair, and freckles.

Anthony jumped away from her, "Get back, Witch!"

"I'm not a witch, I'm your wife! But after what you just said, I'm not even sure I want to be that anymore!"

"You never had it so good!"

"'True love,' he said, 'true love,' Tony!"

"Don't say another word, Pepper," he pleaded, quietly, while keeping a fake smile on his face for his customers. She just shook her head in disappointment before turning to the strangers.

"He's afraid. Ever since Prince Loki fired him, his confidence is shattered!"

"Why would you say that name!? You promised me you would never say that name!"

"What Loki?" Tony gave an annoyed scream and walked away from his wife, while she followed, "Loki! Loki! Loki! Loki, Loki, Loki!"

"I'm not listening!"

"True love lies expiring! And you don't have the common decency to say why you won't help!"

"Nobody's hearing nothing!"

"Loki! Loki! Loki! Loki! Loki!"

Natasha had had enough and yelled over the fighting couple, "This is Prince Steven's true love! If you heal him, he will stop Loki's wedding!"

That got Tony's attention, "Shut up," he told his wife, mid Loki. When she did, he turned to Natasha, "I make him better, Loki suffers?"

 _Got him,_ she thought with a smirk, "Humiliations galore."

Tony gave an evil laugh, and said, "That is a noble cause! Give me the 65, I'm on the job."

Pepper gave an excited cheer. And began to gather the necessary supplies.

A short while later, Tony and Pepper were putting the finishing touches on the pill. A chocolate coating, which, according to Pepper, would make the pill go down easier.

"You have to wait fifteen minutes to give it to him, and he shouldn't go swimming for at least an hour," she warned them while Tony put the pill into a bag for them.

"Thank you for everything," Natasha said sincerely as Bruce picked up the man.

Tony walked over to Bruce before they left, "If you survive, come see me, I might be able to help with your side effects."

Bruce gave him a shocked look.

"The miracle community is small. I heard about you. I'm not promising anything, but I'd like to see what I can do."

The giant was shocked, but thanked him, and promised to come see him as soon as he was able.

They walked them to the door and waved goodbye as they started for the castle. As they went back into the hut, Pepper turned to Tony, "Do you think it will work?"

"It would take a miracle."

* * *

Natasha and Bruce were sneaking along the palace wall. The Man in Black being pulled between them. Bruce looked over the edge of the wall, concerned, "Natasha, there's more than 30."

She shrugged, "What're you so worried about. We've got him," she declared, motioning to The Man in Black's limp form. The swordswoman knelt next to the mostly dead man, and pulled the miracle pill out of its pouch.

"Has it been 15 minutes?" Bruce asked.

"We can't afford to wait," the redhead said with a shrug, "the wedding's in half an hour…I just hope it's enough time for him to recover. Tilt his head back and open his mouth."

Bruce followed her orders, and she gently slid the large pill down the mysterious man's throat, "How long do we have to wait before we know if the miracle works?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," she shrugged, right as the Man in Black opened his eyes.

"I beat you each apart! I'll take you both together!" Bruce quickly put his hand over their new allies' mouth.

"I guess not very long," he chuckled. The man's eyes looked over at Bruce, his head was unable to follow.

"Why won't my arms move?"

"You've been mostly dead all day," the gentle giant explained.

"We had Miracle Tony make a pill to bring you back."

His eyes shot back to Natasha and he began to shoot questions at her, "Who are you? Why am I on this wall? Are we enemies? Where's Steve!?"

Natasha sighed, "Let me explain…no, it's too much…let me summarize; Steve is marrying Loki in a little less than half an hour. All we have to do is get in, break up the wedding, steal the prince and make our escape. After I kill Count Pierce," she announced all of that as if it were the most obvious and simple thing in the world.

His metal thumb began to fidget, "That doesn't leave much time to mess around."

"You just wiggled your finger! That's wonderful," Bruce said, excited at the sign of progress. He earned a smile from the stranger.

"I've always been a quick healer. What are our liabilities?"

"There is one castle gate, and it is guarded by," she looked over the wall to get a quick count, "60 men."

"And our assets?"

"Your brains. Bruce's strength. And my steel."

A dark eyebrow was raised, "That's it? It's impossible," his voice was filled with sorrow and self-loathing, "If I had a month to plan then maybe. I've just been tortured to the point of mostly death, and I can already tell my brain isn't at its best right now. My Steve is going to be forced into marriage with a slimy coward because you didn't think of a plan be. I don't have time to plan an onslaught of an entire castle," he managed a slight head shake.

"You just wiggled your head! That doesn't make you happy?"

The man sighed, before carefully moving his head to look at the giant behind him, "My brains, your strength, and her steel against 60 men, and you think a little head jiggle is going to make me happy?" he scoffed, knowing he was being rude, but not really caring, "I mean if we only had a wheelbarrow that would be something!"

Natasha looked up at Bruce, "Where did we put that wheelbarrow the old man had?"

"Over the old man, I think."

"Why didn't we list that among our assets in the first place?" the Man in Black said under his breath with a roll of his eyes, "What I wouldn't give for an Illusionist's cloak."

Natasha was about to say they couldn't help him there, when Bruce pulled a large black cloak out of his shirt, "Will this do?"

"Where did you get that," she asked, obviously confused.

"At Miracle Tony's. It fit so nice, he said I could keep it," Bruce announced with a large smile on his face. He was always happy when he could help.

"Alright, alright. Help me up." Bruce grabbed the man and put his arm around him to support the mostly dead weight, "Now, I'll need a sword eventually."

Natasha snickered, "What for? You can't even lift one."

"True but that's hardly common knowledge, is it? Now, there may be problems once we're inside."

"I'll say. How do I find the Count? Once I do, how do I find you again? Once I find you again, how do we escape?"

"Don't pester him," Bruce scolded, "He's had a rough day."

"Sorry," Natasha said before leading the way back to where they had left the wheelbarrow. The man nodded in acknowledgement of the apology and they followed behind her.

"Natasha."

"What?"

"I hope we win."

* * *

"You don't seem excited, Darling," Loki said as he walked into Steve's bedroom.

"Should I be?" his voice was as cold as ice. He had bruises on his wrist from Loki's treatment earlier that day.

Loki ignored the tone, "People often are on their wedding day, or so I'm told."

Steve glared at him, blue eyes spilling nothing but hatred, "I will now marry tonight. Bucky will come for me," and if not…it will be a short marriage. With a final glare, he stormed from the room, not seeing Loki's smirk.

* * *

Steve was walked down the aisle and forced to kneel next to Loki in front of a bald, skeletal man, with skin so rosy he looked feverish.

In a thick accent, the skeletal priest began the wedding ceremony. Steve's one comfort was hearing the fearful cries from the courtyard. It had to be Bucky.

* * *

"I am the dread Winter Soldier!" Bruce was really enjoying his roll. Natasha was straining with not only pushing him on the wheelbarrow to make him look even larger, but carrying Bucky on her back. She was a strong woman, but there was only so much she could take.

"Now?" she croaked.

"Not quite," Bucky muttered, trying not to laugh.

"There will be no survivors! My men are here! I am here! But soon you will not be here!" Bruce was really hamming it up.

"Now?" Nat was just about ready to collapse.

"Light him." She didn't have to be told twice before touching the candle to the long black robe covering her dearest friend.

"The Winter Soldier takes no survivors!" the men guarding the gates had already begun to run despite Rumlow screaming at them to stand their ground, "All of your worst nightmares are about to come true! The Winter Soldier is here for your souls!" Soon enough, Rumlow was left alone in front of a flaming giant, who had since taken off the smoldering robe, and revealed a slightly smaller man who managed to keep the portcullis from shutting them out.

Natasha supported Bucky as they hurried towards the castle gate, now guarded by only one man. Bucky glared, "Give us the gate key."

Rumlow fidgeted, "I have no gate key."

The redhead scoffed, "Bruce, tear his arms off."

"Oh, you meant this gate key."

* * *

As Count Pierce gathered some of his men, and went to investigate the screams, Steve smirked at his fiancé, "Here comes my Bucky now." A sickening grin crawled across the green-eyed man's face.

"Your Bucky, is dead. I killed him myself."

Steve's heart nearly stopped, but he didn't show any reaction. He had to have faith. He promised Bucky that he would never doubt him again, and he wouldn't break it, "Then why is there fear behind your eyes?"

Loki was furious as he looked at the Priest. The man was just about to start the 'I dos.' "Husband and Husband! Say Husband and Husband!"

The priest wanted to roll his sunken eyes. If they didn't say the words, the marriage wouldn't be binding, "Husband and Husband."

All of the blood rushed out of Steve's face. He was married. And it wasn't to Bucky. Loki harshly gripped his already bruised arm, and pushed him towards his brother and sister-in-law.

"Escort Steve to the honeymoon suite. I'll be there shortly," he said, rushing out of the hall.

As Thor linked arms with Steve, he heard the small man mutter, "He didn't come."

* * *

Count Pierce and his guards were almost to the castle gates when they came across a very strange looking group.

"Kill the woman and the giant, but leave the third for questioning."

They were no match against Natasha's skill, however, and were soon lying dead on the floor. She looked at the man who had spoken. She knew him.

In her soul. She knew exactly who it was she was looking at.

"Hello. My name is Natasha Romanoff. You killed my husband. Prepare to die." the man before her assumed a beginning stance, before running away like the coward he truly was. Without another word, she ran off after him, leaving Bruce and Bucky to just stare at each other, until they heard her calling out for Bruce, begging him to come help her.

Bruce gently placed Bucky on a chest to make sure he was comfortable, assuring him he would be right back as he went after his friend. He found her slamming her entire body against a heavy wood door. Bruce held out his hand to keep her from hurting herself, and kicked the door open. She thanked him, and went after her prey.

The giant went back to Bucky, only to find that he was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

"Strange wedding," Thor mumbled, as he and his lovely wife escorted his new brother-in-law to the honeymoon suite.

"Yes," Jane agreed, "a very strange wedding. Come along dear." She went on ahead, and Steve stopped walking.

Thor looked down, and was pleasantly surprised with a soft kiss on the cheek, "What was that for?"

"Because you've always been so kind to me. And I won't be seeing you again, because I'm killing myself once we reach the honeymoon suite." He didn't want to…but Bucky didn't respond to his letter, and he hadn't stopped him from getting married. He was alone, and forced into marriage with a man who had already left bruises on his skin once, and he had no doubt it would happen again. There was no other way out.

And Thor, while not a stupid man in the least, could occasionally be a bit dense. He liked Steve very much, and knew he had a rather macabre sense of humor, and he had been a commoner. Maybe marriage was seen as a death sentence.

He wasn't sure, and so he simply smiled and said, "Won't that be nice," before hurrying after his wife, and chuckled to her, "He kissed me."

* * *

Natasha had finally caught up to the man who had ruined her life.

And instead of justice, she was met with a blade to the abdomen. The sharp pain tore through her and she fell against the wall. Her vision started to grow fuzzy and she whispered softly, "I'm sorry Clint…I tried."

Pierce stared at her. The red hair, and scarred face was bringing back a memory so insignificant to him, "You must be that sword makers whore from Budapest I taught a lesson to all those years ago. Incredible… have you been chasing me for so long, only to fail now?" he laughed at the dying woman in front of him, "I think that's the worst thing I've ever heard…how marvelous."

She couldn't reply as the pain forced her to the floor.

* * *

Steve walked into the room where he would die. It was time. His focus was on the desk in front of him, where a decorative dagger waited. It was dull, so his death would most likely be painful, but he just didn't care anymore. He was just done.

He grabbed the blade, and held it to his heart. The small man closed his eyes, took a deep breath and—

"I knew I couldn't trust you not to do anything stupid."

The knife fell from his hands. It was impossible. But as Steve turned around, he saw Bucky, looking a little worse for wear, lying on the bed, a sword by his hand and a slightly panicked expression on his face.

"Bucky!" Steve rushed towards him and fell into his true love's arms.

* * *

While Pierce thought he was watching her die, Natasha could feel that the wound was not deep enough to kill. Severely hurt, yes, but she would live. The woman knew exactly where the knife had hit. Her scar. The scar that had been left by this man before her after he had killed her husband and taken her baby from her. The damaged tissue had prevented the weapon from going to deep. She pulled the blade from her body, and held her hand to the wound before pulling herself off the ground. Logically, she knew that leaving the knife in would keep her from bleeding out, but it would get in the way of what she was about to do.

Pierce snickered at her, "Good heavens…are you still trying to win? You've got an overdeveloped sense of vengeance. It's going to get you into trouble someday." He drew his sword. While he enjoyed watching people die, slowly, he had a feeling she wouldn't. And frankly, he just didn't have the time. He needed to find out how Bucky was still alive. It might be worth experimenting on him. But for the moment, he had to take care of this whore.

He went to stab her in the heart, but she was able to brush aside the strike. It left a deep cut on her left arm, and again on the right when he tried again. Her eyes met his as she pushed herself off the wall, raising her sword.

"Hello…" she started, slowly, trying to fight the dizziness, "My name is Natasha Romanoff. You killed my husband. Prepare to die." She had to lean on a nearby table for support, but managed to continue her pursuit of the fiendish man who was backing away from her.

Pierce lunged once more, and she blocked every blow; seemingly growing strength with every step she took, "Hello, my name is Natasha Romanoff. You killed my husband. Prepare to die."

The man couldn't stand it. He had never been forced to face the consequences of his actions. He started swinging his sword wildly, not really caring for skill or form. The only thought in his head was killing her, but she quickly put him on the defensive. This was no longer a fight, but an execution. And she was more than willing to play her part.

"Hello!" her voice was strong, and rang with power. 20 years of sorrow, training, and misery were filling her with the strength to finally get her revenge, "My name is Natasha Romanoff! You killed my husband, prepare to die."

"Stop saying that!" the old man spat out.

Natasha smirked, and with two quick lunges, stabbed him in the arms. Mirroring the wounds he had given her moments prior. She relished his cries of pain.

"Hello! My name is Natasha Romanoff! You killed my husband, prepare to die!"

"No-!" but he was cornered.

"Offer me money," she demanded with a voice as cold as ice as her blade sliced across his face.

"Yes," he hissed.

"Power too. Promise me that," another slice, and he had almost every scar he had given her. Almost.

"All that I have and more. Please."

A hate-filled smirk slid across her face, and she pulled her left hand away from her abdomen, blood dripping from her fingers as she raised it in preparation, "Offer me everything I ask for."

"Anything you want," he thought he had a chance. But as he raised his hand to attack her, he was stopped by the hand as red as her hair, and the blade in his gut.

"…I want my family back, you son of a bitch," she whispered, as a single tear slid down her face. She had done it. The man who took her happiness finally lay dead at her feet.

She was free.

* * *

"I'm so mad at you," Steve said, not moving from Bucky's arms.

"What hideous sin have I committed this time."

"I got married," Bucky's heart stopped, "You came here instead of the chapel, and it all happened so fast. I didn't get a chance to say anything from the beginning of the ceremony until that hideous man was pronouncing us as husbands."

"Did you say 'I do?'" he asked, hoping Steve hadn't exaggerated.

Blue eyes narrowed in confusion at the question, "No…we sort of skipped that part."

Bucky heaved a sigh of relief, "Then the marriage never happened. If you didn't say it, you didn't do it."

Steve felt like a weight had just been lifted off his shoulders. He wasn't married to that rotten prince. He closed his eyes and pressed his ear to Bucky's chest, listening to the, thankfully strong, heartbeat.

"Wouldn't you agree, Your Highness?" Steve shot up to see Loki glaring at them from the doorway.

"A technicality that will shortly be remedied," he drew his ceremonial sword, "But first things first; to the death."

"No!" Loki stopped under the heat of Bucky's glare, "To the pain."

Loki scoffed. He knew that this man was going to try to manipulate him, but he was silver-tongued, and a god at mischief. He looked forward to seeing what the dead man walking had to say, "I'm not so sure I'm familiar with that phrase."

"Then I'll explain. And I'll use small words so you'll be sure to understand, you warthog faced buffoon."

The prince blinked once. Twice. "That may be the first time in my life a man has dared to insult me."

"It won't be the last. To the pain means the first thing you lose will be your feet below the ankles. And then your hands at the wrist. And next your nose…" he mused.

"And then my tongue, I suppose. I killed you too quickly the last time. A mistake I don't mean to duplicate tonight," he had expected better from the man who had defeated Zola. Thor made better threats when Loki stole his breakfast, or hid his rather ridiculous hammer. Although, he did think the new ax was rather menacing.

"I wasn't finished," Bucky smirked, but there was no humor in his voice, "the next thing you lose will be your left eye, followed by your right."

"And then my ears, I understand, let's get on with it," he was annoyed, and just really wanted to kill him already, but as he began to approach…

"Wrong! Your ears you keep and I'll tell you why…So that every shriek of every child that's seen your hideousness will be yours to cherish…Every babe that weeps at your approach, every woman who cries out, 'Dear God, what is that thing?!' will echo in your perfect ears. _That_ is what to the pain means. It means I leave you wallowing in freakish misery forever."

And for the first time…Loki was scared.

Not wanting to let it show, he swallowed and said, "I think you're bluffing."

"It's possible, Pig," Bucky gave a slight, conceding shrug, "It's conceivable, you miserable, vomitous mass that I'm only lying here because I lack the strength to stand…Then again, perhaps I have the strength after all," he gently moved Steve off of him, and gathering every ounce of strength left in his body, he stood. Raising his sword and holding it steady, he commanded, "Drop. Your. Sword."

He did.

"Have a seat."

Not taking his eyes off the man in front of him, Loki awkwardly made his way to a chair.

"Tie him up," he told Steve. A wicked gleam appeared in Steve's blue eyes as he grabbed some silk sashes. It was time to repay those bruises.

Natasha was making her way through the corridors, trying to find her companions when she heard a pained cry coming from a room. Bursting in, she found Bucky leaning on a sword, staring with an amused look to where Steve was tying up Loki. The small man was not being gentle with the knots, and he had a distinctly fiendish gleam in his eyes as he "accidentally" elbowed him in the ribs.

"Where's Bruce," she asked.

"I thought he was with you…"

"In that case," Bucky went to take a step, but had overestimated his strength. Something he realized as his knees went weak and he fell to the floor. Steve rushed to help him back to his feet.

"What's the matter with him?" he asked Natasha.

"He has almost no strength."

"Ah hah! I knew you were bluffing! I knew he was bluffing!" Loki cheered but cut himself off at the sight of Natasha's blade inches from his throat.

"Shall I dispatch him for you?" she asked, looking all too willing.

"Thank you, but no. I want him to live a long and happy life…alone in his cowardice."

Steve agreed with Bucky. But he wasn't going to say anything about the letter he had written to Thor about Loki's involvement in his original kidnapping. Zola had been all to happy to tell his poor captive that his own fiancé had ordered his murder.

Steve had kept the information to himself, but had told Thor to read the journal in Steve's bedroom, with everything Zola had told him, as well as other things he had managed to figure out on his own.

"Natasha!" they all looked towards the window where Bruce's voice was calling out, "Natasha! Where are you?!" the three went to the window and pushed it open, seeing Bruce standing below them with four, large white horses, "Oh, there you are. Natasha, I was the princes stable, and I found these horses. I thought to myself that there were four of us, if we ever found the small one." Steve was a little offended, but couldn't exactly deny it, or stay angry as Bruce looked at him with a little smile and said, "Hello, Small One." Steve just gave him a sweet smile and a small wave in response, "So I took them with me in case we ever bumped into each other. I guess we just did." Bruce looked very proud of himself.

"Bruce, you did something right," Natasha said, fondly.

"Don't worry, I won't let it go to my head."

Bucky helped Steve climb onto the window ledge. It was a rather long drop, but Steve was never too afraid of heights. He jumped down, wedding robes floating around him in an almost magical way as he fell into Bruce's strong arms.

Bucky watched, and breathed a sigh of relief that Steve had made it down safely. He turned to Natasha and motioned for her to go before him. She moved to jump, before stopping.

"You know…it's very strange…I have been in the revenge business for so long that now that it's over, I don't know what to do with the rest of my life."

"Have you ever considered piracy? I think you'd make a marvelous Winter Soldier. Think about it," Bucky said, before jumping out the window to join the others, and lift Steve onto his horse, despite his protests that he could do it himself.

Natasha was thoughtful. The Winter Soldier had to be a man, but maybe…she saw a spider making its home in a corner of the window. Maybe a new name for a new era, she thought to herself before jumping out the window behind her friends.

They rode to freedom, and as dawn arose, Steve and Bucky new they were safe. Bucky's ship was waiting for them, and no one had chased after them. Natasha and Bruce were going over their future plans, including Bruce coming back to see Tony and Pepper for whatever help they could give him. They weren't paying any attention to the two men behind them.

They couldn't stop staring at each other. This was real. Bucky could finally give Steve the life he thought he deserved, and Steve could finally have the life he had always secretly wanted. Any life with Bucky. A wave of love swept over them, and as they reached for each other…

Since the invention of the kiss, there have been five that have been rated the most passionate and the most pure. This one left them all behind.


End file.
